


God Eater

by DwarvenReject



Series: Written In Stone [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cadash Inquisitor - Freeform, F/M, I have no idea, Maybe Queerplatonic, Mentions of Rape, PTSD, Slow Burn, female inquisitor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2018-07-11 23:47:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7075630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DwarvenReject/pseuds/DwarvenReject
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allanah was never a woman who has done anything half assed but at the sight of the boiling sky she has to wonder, not for the first time, what she did to deserve this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Begins With A Scream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just do this again hmm?

Ch 1: It Begins With A Scream

My story begins with a scream and ends with a sob. Everything in between should be unnecessary but it's not. The between is horror. The between is happiness and love. Death and accepting. The between is where all the interesting things happen. This is my story and I wish to tell it and like how all stories begin my story starts with a scream.

)*(

My eyes snapped open lashes sticking together with sweat and tears. My mouth is gapping open with a silent scream of horror and my eyes roll into the back of my head as memories associated with these emotions flicker through my mind fast as lightning. My chest heaved with a heady wave of nausea. I sit myself upright, emotions sickly sweet and sticking to the back of my throat like the memory of smoke. Curling into myself and trying to ignore the uncomfortable sticking of my soaked nightshirt I filter through the fade induced panic. Its not quite a bad dream but overwhelming emotions that will take me in the middle of the night. I don't know how long I sit there in my misery. I only know that my back aches and my wrists are decorated with bloody half moons and streaks of rust. I refuse to move in fear of another backflash, not quite sure that I am steady in my own time.

Being of a dreamless race may protect and deprive me of the sleeping hallucinations but it did not protect from the sudden upheaval of emotions brought on by the veil. I have always been sensitive to it and it to me. If I were any other race the Circle would have taken me in for training many years ago but as it stands I must keep myself and my surroundings under control by practicing theoretical magic and veil desensitizing. On some days though...I cannot keep the emotions amplified by spirits at bay. These are the times I consider begging to be taken to be tranquiled. But the thought of being like those poor, incomplete souls turns my stomach.

Huffing a few sobs against my knees I silence just as quickly and my painfully pinched face relaxes, my clenched fists the only indication to my continued distress and even those loosen in fake calm. I look out the small warped window and see the pregnant moon rippled like a pond, still bright and the stars twinkling merrily through the void. I see my own warped image in the dark glass and look away just as quickly.

Stretching until wet pops relax my back I shake off the heavy velvet duvet and, as silently as I can, tiptoe to the wardrobe. I keep my sight from the mirror until I am covered in a pair of tight grey pants and a matching cotton over shirt with the front lacings loose. Pliable leather bracers cover my forearms and shins. Looking into the mirror I could hardly see the scaring. I settle a heavy black cloak over the assemble and adjust it just right to cover the rest of the ugly markings. The dark fur cuff tickles my nose as I attempt to shield the one on my face that ran from my right eyebrow through part of my mouth and chin. The new bright red tattoos distract from the mar I still unconsciously lean it away from light. I look down and away from my own reflection, curling into myself. It seems today will be a bad one. Normally I can function just fine but in times like these, with a storm of emotions ravaging my mind, I feel like curling up and never leaving my room let alone looking at these permanent reminders.

Snagging my hard soled boots from the bottom of the oaken wardrobe I turn away only for the damned door to slam loudly closed. I hold my breath for what feels like minutes waiting for father to barge in wielding his war axe and a groggy face. When it didn't come I sighed in relief. Carefully opening the door and leaning out I can only hear the loud bear like snores of father and carefully ease out and down the newly installed stairway to the front of the house. Sniggering at the image of my dad falling through I make my way to the kitchen.

Grabbing a golden apple and a couple honey rolls I shove my midnight snack into my satchel hanging by the door while slowly easing open the notoriously squeaky door. My uncles have offered to fix it but father refuses, saying he likes knowing when his child is sneaking away. It's been a hindrance in nights like this. Sometimes he catches me and forces me to stay and drink tea with him. While its considerate I want to be alone to work my body to the point of exhaustion and forget what it's like to feel.

Shoving my bare feet into my boots and tying my ivory curls back with only some difficulty I stand straight, belying my own exhaustion. I'm very happy the others convinced me to shave the left side of my head or it would be much harder to control and nearly impossible to tie in the leather thong. Rubbing the stubble I take off into the night quickly sprinting my way down the cobblestoned streets until I make it into the diseased heart of this city. I climb the side of a near apartment and onto the blessedly dry rooftop.

I spend the few hours until dawn traversing the alleyways and rooftops of the city I call home, smog and workers sweat constantly tickling my nose. Officially the humans run the joint but everyone knows the Carta are the only reason the city hasn't consumed itself. It might be the reason why they turn their cheeks to us and allow certain liberties. Ones that do not include being caught out past curfew, but as Uncle Fen always says, "If no one sees it it hasn't happened." Wise man him.

I stop to rest a little, hands on my knees and controlled huffing, and see movement out of the corner of my eye out from the dirty ally into the well lit main street. A night watch is set up near these richer streets and I smirk at the challenge. Crouching down I sneak up a balcony onto the next, unlocking the pretty glass doors into a well furnished waiting room. Carefully sticking to the shadows I search every drawer and hit a jackpot. A bag of coins and jewelry in the locked drawer of the highly polished mahogany desk. I leave the old looking pieces and make my way out with minimal jingling. Not my most discrete work but I'm more in it to numb myself tonight. And I do just that, breaking in to the richer looking houses only snagging a couple trinkets here and there.

And perhaps a few glasses of that aged whisky in the extremely delicate crystal decanter but that's my business. But it made me more clumsy than I anticipated, my footsteps louder than they aught to be and my sight a bit blurry. I curse my own light weight when I hear an alarmed guard. Shoving my hood up I decide tonight is as good as any night to polish up my escaping skills. Keeping to the shadows and trying to seem more like a short human than a tall dwarf I shove the loose strands of my recognizable hair behind my ears.

It's a few close calls later when I escape fully and by time the sun peeks over the horizon I'm on the watchtower feeding the crows my rolls. The night gives me clarity and peace (ignoring my buzzed stumbling earlier since I sobered) and I'm unwilling to go back to the hustle and bustle of day life. Just the thought of the pushing crowds is enough to make my stomach clench. Too many people and probabilities. Too many opportunities for the entire situation to go tits up.

With a heavy sigh I bid farewell to my friends and toss the rest of my crumbs at the scrawnier looking fellows. Standing I take off running to take a practiced leap off the ledge onto the roof of the nearest building. I immediately roll to absorb momentum and grab the hand holds I hammered into the roof months ago after I took a flying dive onto the street and into a holding cell. Brushing off my knees I stick my tongue at the still dark window of the constables office next to the court house I just landed on. The bastards have taken me in so many times we're on first name basis. Frel's wife is pregnant with their first child and he bemoaned the future offspring to my father who is also on first name basis with them. I should get them a cake. Or better yet bake one. Yea that sounds good.

Humming happily I run all the way home racing no one in particular except for the rising sun. I make my way into the outskirts just in time for the sun to fully spill over the horizon and I sidle to the shadowed half of the house. I clutch at the crumbling brick and heave myself upwards to the unlocked top window. Slipping through the attic window and sneaking myself downstairs as quietly as I can I tiptoe around the many noisy floor boards in this aged home. I can hear father cooking in the kitchen and the smell of eggs and pork waft up to me.

My mouth waters but I must attempt for normality so I go to my room and change into some night clothes, stashing the bag out of sight. Hunching my back and mussing my hair up I look into the the mirror...and blanch at the heavy shadows that have been steadily growing in size this past year, darker than the constant hollows I had before these hellish forms of nightmares. My face is slack in exhaustion skin sagging near my mouth where a young woman should never sag. I frown and tenderly touch the near purple area that looks even darker from my ashen skin that seems thinner now that I look at it. My bright blue veins pop out as if my skin is translucent and I start at the washed out exhausted creature in the mirror. The only color in my pinched face is the bright red of my tattoos dipping into the hollows of my cheeks and sloping downwards with my forehead and the startlingly bright eyes peering at me wide eyed through the tangle of curls. My mouth is so tightly pursed the normally pink lips are devoid of life. I slowly relax my face and watch it gradually transform in the mirror into a vaguely familiar mask. Next I straightened my shoulders from their defeated hunch, pull out my practiced smile and try to ignore the deadness in my eyes.

I slowly hobble downstairs, heavy footed and as tired looking as I can. Not that it's that difficult. Fathers hulking figure turns towards me away from the stove and rolls his eyes. His ember red beard is already elaborately braided and his hair is tied into a high horses tail atop his head. Not only has he been up for some time, he's also dragging me to the training arena if the knuckle bracers on the counter say anything. Knowing the jig is up before it could even begin I accept early defeat gracefully and straighten while smiling sheepishly and pulling up a chair. He stares me down a moment more before he nods and turns to finish breakfast and the last calm I'll be having all day.

"What did you draw?" His voice is gruff enough without sleep thickening it but I'm used to it. Used to my frightening great brute of a father with his lovely beard and heavily tattooed body. I stopped noticing his towering form as a child, his deep and stone heavy voice has sung me the sweetest lullabies and his tree truck arms have torn through my enemy's. I fear nothing from my father. Except when he drags me to the training arena to kick my arse. Sometimes literally. In front of others.

"Just some crows." My charcoal sketching is nothing too fancy, just like my other talents. Just enough talent to promise something great if I put effort in mastering it. But what use is singing or embroidery on the battlefield where my heart yearns to be but in the same breath protests against? My cooking skills could feed a couple hungry bellies but not save a family from bandits.

Reminded of my weakness my grip on the chair arm tightens until I hear cracking. Quickly taking my hand from the arm rest I look up to see father with an odd expression and setting some plates down. Smiling wolfishly I start to devour the meal in front of me, conscious of my impending training and not wanting to throw up if hit in the belly like the first disastrous time. Gulping down my cup of water I wash my dishes then run upstairs to piss and change. By time I'm down my newly oiled leather training gear is on and my hair is twisted into a loose plait. My hand held war axes are strapped to my hips the dark green wrappings dangling. I so wanted to take Jackle down from her case but she would be a bit of overkill so the twins Par and Reave will do. He looks me up and down and nods approval and so as one we make for the door.

We don't talk as we leave the house. I didn't need to wait and follow him when he stopped to lock the heavy door from intruders, so familiar is the path to the arena. But I do and swiftly I follow after him, respectfully keeping to his right and at least a step behind. The walk deeper into the heavily wooded area behind our house is silent except for the odd snapping branch. It's familiar and soothing in a way of the calm before the storm. The birds titter in the ever growing trees around us and a running river nearly drowns out the approaching sounds of clashing metal and grunts. All it takes is carefully walking across a precariously placed log and we exit the fantastical woodland and enter the family compound.

Much of it can be lost among the thick trees. In fact most of it is above the forest floor. Only looking straight up can you see the almost invisible vine bridges connecting the canopy and the bark covered houses. All that's left on the ground is the market place where many illegal dealings occur every day, the blacksmith, and the formal training grounds which also double as an arena. I never questioned why we don't live here, just know that it's how this is. I look up in familiar wonder to see bodies scurrying across thin bridges and wooden walkways around the dense village above. I know the only reason they are out is because of the hidden scouts set up all over the forest recognizing us.

Green and golden filtered light dances with dust moats and the smoke from the clanging and busy smithies. Children drop bunches of leaves on the humoring public below, men and women shaking the green off and yelling good natured like up at the already running rascals. No matter how many times I see it I am still awestruck and I wonder how any mountain dweller could look down on our way of life. But I shake off my childish awe and fix my face into one of a future Carta Matriarch. I do not actively glare at the wide eyed new recruits who have not been trusted enough to gain residence in the sky city but I pass over them dismissively, often correcting their own attitudes with a well placed blow or word, or weapon stances if they are brave enough to stop and ask for it. Yet another thing I doubt I will get used to. I often wonder what it would have been like if I grew up here. Maybe they wouldn't fear so much? Maybe I wouldn't feel the need to intimidate to keep power seekers away? Who knows.

We slowly make our way past the temporary stands selling deals and illegal valuables, past the gritty and sour smiths who nod our way, and take familiar turns to the arena. It is not much, just a sand filled pit dug several feet deep and stands surrounding the semi circle but it is a safe place where new trainees can be tested and taught and where betrayers go to be judged and possibly fight for their life. It is in the middle of town and the easiest to hide as a huge clump of foliage looms overhead and a specially crafted net can be dropped to hide it and any young ones still inside. Truly the safest place to be as I remember the many times a foolish human has stumbled into town and I was shoved inside along with the whimpering children and nervous new recruits.

We entered the nearby weaponry, pulled down the leather blunters and attached them to our weapons ignoring the specially crafted training weapons. We still did not speak while people slowly wandered into the stands and the heavy branches above to watch. Nodding to each other we got on opposite ends of the pit and jumped in. In the minuets allotted to us and our preparation a grizzled trainer boomed above the noisy chatter of onlookers. I tune out the familiar guidelines and tighten my own leather knuckle bracers, wearily watching my father clasp on his iron ones. I'll need to be fast to win this fight. Slowly taking my axes from my thigh straps I twirl them and get into a lazy defensive stance as he takes out his short swords, really just long daggers, and flips them into the inside of his forearms. The ringing of a bell signals the beginning of our fight and quiets the masses as we stalk around each other, looking for familiar openings and baring our teeth as our frustrations, or fears, our anger towards each other that we cumulate on a daily basis, come out to play.

Our battle started slow, just an exercise so that I may remember my forms. Then we gradually upped the brutality and speed until a full blown battle was being fought. Our strikes are bone jarring and our mouths are twisted in pure bloodlust. Eventually our weapons were flung away but we did not stop. Like savages we ripped into each other with hand to hand combat. Sand was flung, blood sprayed, sweat poured, and screams of rage and pain ripped through the air when I was put face down into the sand and bound there until I almost blacked out. Still I struggled weakly, bucking at the immovable mass of muscle cursing and struggling above me. Spitting out the wad of bloody sand from my mouth I wheeze the words I have been trying to swallow down when he jarred Par from my hand.

"I yield!" Despite the near silent groan the weight pulled off immediately. My arms where released and I felt my limp body be rolled onto my back. When my sight cleared of the swirling colors and black spots my fathers bloody and worried face was above me along with my uncles, his closest friends and companions. As the ringing in my ears slowed to a stop I could here the people practically going rabid, cheering and stomping as bags of money routinely flew over head. I laughed out of breath at the crooks I call family.

Uncle Uri, our healer and fathers oldest friend, was looking me over testing the tenderness of my ribs. But for now my wounds only ache deeply and I bless the Maker and the Stone for adrenalin. Next he checked my eyes and determined me not concussed. But he still glared at my father who withered just slightly under the intimidating war hawks gaze. But points in his favor he didn't completely cower under the glassy blue fire that seemed to spit out whenever something invoked his explosive anger.

Shoving a putrid concoction down my throat he ignores my sputters and pitiful whines. Father snorts at me through his broken nose only to wince and look at my uncle with the most pitiful expression I have ever seen a grown man wear. Uri rolls his eyes and quickly sets the crooked appendage with no warning. I'm still seeing remnants of double so I lie there and chuckle at his yelps of pain.

Fens knife sharp face peers over mine, sleek brows crooked in grudging amusement and already thin lips pursed. His younger brother Weston, a burly and stocky man with bright blond curls so very different from his brothers murky brown locks, looms over his shoulder arms crossed and a shiny grin on his face. Their eyes are the exact same shade of dusty jade. I slowly blink my own that are most likely bloodshot and swollen if the pain and grinding feeling says anything. Nice.

I smirk good naturedly up at them and they exchange glances. Weston leans down to gather me up like a child. Head resting on his shoulder and legs straddling his waist. I quickly look around, worried that an entire audience could be seeing this when, to my relief, the stands are deserted and my fathers personal guard pushing the mass of bodies away from the edge. Fen pats my head and slips some candy in my loosely clenched hand then turns away to probably give my father a good talking to about proper arena rules and guidelines. At least it's not me in trouble this time and I notice, with a sense of pride, that my father has more bruises and lacerations than me. Giggling like a loon I burrow into my uncles collar.

"How long were we at it?" I'm not all that surprised by my scratching voice and burning throat.

"At least an hour. Gonna get ya some water and some comfy clothes." Exaggerated sniffing is heard. "After a long bath."

I laugh again and doze a bit in his arms until the familiar creak of our door is heard. He brings me up to my bathroom and my youngest uncle Sasha is already filling the tub with steaming water. Kissing Weston on the cheek I leap off him only to stumble as my legs lost feeling. Grunting I slump against the wall and tell them to leave then throughly enjoy my bath for an hour, watching with fascination as my wounds fade and knit close. Must have been pure elf root soak Sasha added. I must have looked in a bad way if they used such a high concentration. I dip my lathered hair into the murky water before getting out and drying in front of the ancient silver backed mirror in the corner. It's a bit disorientating seeing the old bands of scars tight across my body, even the tender breast tissue is damaged and I swallow down my reaction. I have cried my fill today, no sense wasting anymore energy on something that cannot change.

Instead I look at my never changing features. I brush against the black strands and patches in my lashes, brows, and my hair. My skin no longer looks so ashen, reddening to a more rosy state with my own relaxation. I stare into my eyes that I am still, after so many years, unable to tell what color they are exactly. With every shift the candles catch my eyes and turn them a greying blue but the dwindling sunlight caught them aflame with molten gold. Green emerged in the shadows and every shade in between fought for attention. Nodding in satisfaction I pop my back with a groan. My muscles are pleasantly sore and stretched but I know it will hurt later so I hurry to slather the medical smelling lotion on, tending to the stretching and tearing from the unnaturally tight skin that hadn't healed in the bath. When I finally come down in my threadbare breeches and a shirt lent to me by someone I can't remember it's to find my family arguing heatedly.

"You know damn well she's ready!" My fathers booming voice is in no way muffled against his fiery beard. I absentmindedly brush off the billowing faded green pants and the vivid blue shirt as I lean against the door frame. They ignore or don't notice me and continue their pissing match.

"We're not saying she's not but she hasn't even reached her majority yet. And what if something goes wrong? None of us will be within miles of the place and we can't keep her safe."

Uncle Uri's calming voice of reason is backed by the loud muttering of the others. I purse my mouth and furrow my brows. What on earth are they talking about?

"What's going on here? Whose going where?"

It might be a new recruit they're talking about. But this it the first time I've heard of it and what of them being gone? This seems highly suspicious and it's backed by their awkward swaying until Father, blunt as ever, stands. But he doesn't seem like my father at this moment. He looks like a Carta leader, larger than life and intimidating to all hell. My breath is trapped in my chest as I watch him walk up to me pride in his eyes and gently grips my shoulders.

"Pack your bag dear gem. I have a mission for you."


	2. The Big Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allanah prepares for her next step and a drastically changing life, just not with the ending she has in mind.

Ch 2: The First Step Is Always The Hardest

Nerves twisted my gut as I flew around my room making sure I had my essentials packed. Couldn't bring more than a few knives as it's a spy mission on a peace meeting but still. My heart fluttered and I couldn't keep my stupid grin off my face for the life of me. My first mission! And one so important.

I'm under no illusions. The only reason I got this far is because my father, despite the fact that he claims that he treats me the same as any newbe. I will, of course, have a fully armed guard traveling with me in case of an emergency but I refuse to think too deeply about it because for the first time in years I'll be able to travel, see new things and meet new people. Of course I know it won't all be rainbows and nug babies but I'll be ready for anything! Just get me out of here! The routine has gotten boring and my wanderlust has surprisingly returned this last year, just after I thought I was completely done with the whole idea. Certainly it's been long enough that I romanticized it.

Setting my meager packs onto my bed I look around with a smile on my face. Everything is clean and orderly and by time I come back it will be covered in a carpet of dust as a lonely air surrounds it. But I do not know this just yet and my spirit jumped in excitement. Bounding out, my arms leaden down by my packs, I skip the squeaky steps and floor boards downstairs to find my father and his partners talking animatedly about the inevitable success of my mission. Flashing him a quick grin I spirit out of the door, ignoring the loud shriek as it slammed wide open.

I spot my uncles walking and preparing with the company and ponies. Nodding deeply in their direction I make my way to the wily sable that is to be my own steed. Carefully setting my things down I approach the anxious creature, a snagged apple in my open palm and my other hand outstretched for her straps. It is an old and practiced dance but I think she appreciates it all the same as she quickly ducks her snout under my hand and swallows the small fruit in a couple bites.

Taking hold of her straps I slowly lead her to my packs, patting her neck the whole way. Placing my things in the small saddle bags proves more difficult than I anticipated as Marigold shied away playfully as if to entice a game. It took two more apples and a bonk on the head to stand still. I secure the bags along the ponies saddle along with the small tent and supplies I will be charge of, exchanging items between packs to equalize the weight. I'm about to leg up when my uncles call out. Looking back I see them lined up with smiles of varying degrees of happiness splitting their faces.

"Uncles! I see you found it in your bitter old hearts to send me off."

Smirking I dodge the halfhearted swipes of anger, digging even more at their advanced ages to their ever growing exasperation. Especially Uri who's hair was more grey than black nowadays. His gruff voice calls me to a standstill and I obey as I have since my childhood albeit with a much more mischievous smile. Rolling his eyes at me he pulls a pouch from his pocket.

"Here, some elfroot potion." I open it up to find vials, in their individual slots lining the sides, of concentrated elfroot and whatever else he puts in there to make it so efficient. It's usually commissioned to agents going on much higher level jobs because of the long creation process. Nasty stuff but could help in a pinch of I need pain numbing and a burst of energy. Fen stepped up next, his own pouch a bright red color.

"And some poison. Can't be too careful with those high and mighty snobs."

I accept the gift and carefully open it to see the trademark poison vials with the black stamped corks. A laughing skull was burn printed onto the top and I know immediately what this is. He bottles it like this so we can know when we feel for it we know to handle it with the gloves that come in the pouch. No one knows what is in it except Fen and Uri but I do know the nasty side effects of it getting into your bloodstream. Puking blood, hemorrhaging in the brain, and after a few days necrosis if not enough is applied to kill. Fortunately the slim blue bottle with an X printed on the top holds the antidote and you only have to take half the amount of poison. Gaping up at his smug face he strokes his goatee and the groomed and twirled mustache, the braids from his mutton chops quivering with humor along with his mustache. Weston's kind smile contradicts the hard elbow jabbed into his brothers side.

"A few beads for your hair. Might catch yourself a One and you want to be sitting high an pretty yea?"

He drops the simple polished pine box in my hands and I unclasp the iron lock to find ten good sized beads in their own hollow of satin. Silver with three perfect circles of mother of pearl. Looking closely I can see a simple but elegant vine design etched into the top and bottom with the idea of tiny flowers all along the vines length. They are beautiful and a work of dedication and craft. My throat closes and I wipe away a few traitorous tears. Offering him a watery smile I turn to Sasha who doesn't sign anything to me, only delicately reaches into the box and one by one deftly braids my hair in an looping up do with no meaning and strategically clips Weston's beads on.

I can't even pretend to be confused by the pretty beads purposes. It's a warning to my standing to other dwarves and a calling card to the Lords of the Carta to those in the know. I saw the runes hiding among the flowers. But he also slips some wild flowers in my braids along side the warnings. Smiling at his simple declaration of love while my other uncles argued if sending me in full metal armor is a good idea I finally mount my pony. He helps me up, bushy brown beard tickling my hands and as I look down I see that his smile is bright and wide. Enough that I can see the hollow behind his teeth where his tongue should have been. His eyes twinkle in the sunlight with pride and a few tears seeing me decked out and on my first mission.

"Do you think you could leave without a goodbye to me?" I turn to see my bright faced father, not a normally smiling man but I can see his own happiness, and I feel the sting of tears once again. Leaning down I allow him to nearly drag me off and crush me to his chest. Staying like that for a few tender moments we separate and I notice another weight in the forefront braid. An iron bead, faded but the elaborate design still visible after so many years. It will be the first time since I came home that he is without it and we smile to each other in understanding and love.

Whistling sharply I nod to my small farewell party, my own traveling group growing impatient except for the ever jolly Grog, one of fathers own personal guard and a man I've known since birth, and to my father who I know will watch after me long after I cross the horizon. Without looking back I have Marigold trot on southwards to the next step in my life. A big, stomach dropping, breath taking step. I really wasn't ready for anything was I?  
)*(

It's only been a week on the road and I'm already sick of it. The other agents are silent and ride way ahead or behind and even off the trail, often only showing up at my side if I'm near other travelers or to set up camp. I've long exhausted my list of songs and while my nose has adjusted itself to the smell of musty horse hair the cheeky bitches saddle is uncomfortable as hell. I would embroider something if I had thought of the boredom. All I could do was think of impossible situations involving a dastardly villain and a ballsy heroin, namely myself, saving the day with a war cry on her lips and fire in her heart. In the months to come I will remember this moment and I will laugh and laugh and laugh. And if I am to cry ugly sobs toasting away my idealistic innocence, well, no one was around to say.

Suddenly I am surrounded by my guard, a few women and a couple men disguised as my family members traveling to visit a novel human colony. Only the women were riding while the men's ponies were used as animals of burden. If it weren't for the stillness of there shoulders and hands despite their animated talking I would never have suspected them to be anyone but a group of traveling family members. Around the corner a caravan of humans and their servant elves appear ahead of us. From the family crest and stick-up-my-ass expressions the humans had, I can safely assume they are going to the meeting also. Great.

My companions expressions twist only momentarily and if someone didn't have experience seeing expressions under beards one would never notice the subtle shifting. While I would usually be a bit miffed at their unprofessionalism, I can't say that looking at the skittish and wide eyed elves sat right with me. I just didn't have a beard to hide under so with effort I twisted my sour expression into one of a joyful maiden and smile gently at the poor creatures with as much compassion as I can muster. A few look a bit surprised other suspicious and my heart aches. A human, a steward I think, pulled up to us on a irate horse with a smarmy smile and beady eyes, slightly watery like a new born calf just not half as cute.

"Hello there!" He speaks with unnecessary loudness even without our stone etched hearing. Almost as if he forget that our people invented the tongue he uses.

"Lovely day to travel hm?" When nothing but polite smiles and quiet murmurs meet him he huffs a bit nervously and adjusts his collar. A thin sheen of sweat covers his upper lip darkening the shaved mustache and he barely looks to be 20 years. A mere baby to my 43 although comparatively by race I guess I would be younger.

"Well, I guess I will not waste any of your time then. My master was wondering if perhaps a group with your expertise would be willing to traverse with us the rest of the way on our journey."

It took all I had not to blow my cover as the default leader of my group and take on the blank look of a proper youngest sister while Grog, a joyful dwarf who's belly and twinkling eyes do a good job of hiding his monstrous strength and light feet, speaks on our groups behalf.

"Our expertise? Lad, I have not the slightest clue to what you mean. And I know you are not a thinking my sister and cousins to be whores but seeing the male guards in your party perhaps you are, eh?"

The suddenly even younger steward coughs and stammers while turning red. His eyes flick to us in barely hidden interest and disgust. Common for human men. Always wanting the tits but not the beards. He stops on me a bit longer, taking note of my lack of facial hair perhaps, then looks away. A solider of sure prestige sighs and pulls next to us also. His gaze is much more appreciative but not border line improper like the boys. Perhaps a bit of surprise at the large amount of women outside of their gilded mountains.

"The boy meant nothing of the like sir. We had just assumed a group with so many women and no armed escorts would be skilled in combat of some kind. And if not, we wished to invite you to join us for protection sake, seeing such a young one ride with you."

I pouted a bit as he gestured to me and called me young. My lack of beard was a bit of a sore spot and I do not like it mentioned, thank you very much. Grog laughed a bit at my expression although I can see him inwardly cursing for not having the foresight to bring more men. Above ground we do not have the luxury of being lazy females. In this world of filth and rape and ravage we must work as hard as our menfolk and disregard the many centuries of useless mountain etiquette. This leaves us to forget what should and shouldn't be proper unfortunately, compromising a few far between missions.

"Aye, young she is but she's almost to her majority. Bit of a soft spot to her eh."

The soldier looks a bit shocked at this but recovers gracefully, tilting his head and apologizing. His gaze is a bit more interested than before and I puff a bit. No sense in driving away interest of a handsome man, human or not. My eyes catch sight of a few braids in his light brown hair and beard but disregarded it as a human fashion statement and did not look very closely at them.

"Think nothing of it lad. Although I must ask, how are you able to judge a dwarfs age so confidently?"

His cheeks ruddy a bit and I find it charming.

"My grandmother is a dwarf of the Copper Mountains. She tries to keep us as in touch with our heritage as she can. And that includes proper hair care and signs."

Now my interest is spiked. I can see the basic braids of a young man in his facial and head hair. The tiny brass beads clasped to them are simplistic but beautiful and well cared for, the etched runes showing a soldier of rank and a young man not married or courting. Interesting. I think he sees me looking as his arms flex a bit and his lips tilt with mischief. As Grog agreed to go with for 'the ladies safety' I can't help but revise my thoughts for this trip. It is going quite amazingly and by the sidelong glances the soldier, Villiam, sent me I think he agrees.


	3. And Suddenly It's More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An eye for and eye, a life for a life, no matter how Allanah hates it.

Ch 3: And Suddenly It's More

That night we stop on the side of the road. The petty criminal in me thought of how easy it would be to snag some of the unguarded riches these idiots basically pile in the road but Villiam and his companies eyes are sharp and unforgiving so I don't risk it. Seeing as we are in company, the ladies and I don't have to do much camp work and I take my given time to quickly bathe the road from my skin, watching in fascination as beads of brown rolled off from dirt I did not know was on me. Scrubbing as hard as I dared, I drop the cloth in shock as I feel a few very large, very slick bodies rub against me. It seems that a couple river fish were hanging around the nearly stagnant wading pool I was in.

I look down and see two of them, bigger than my forearms. My mouth watered at the thought of fish fillets and me hands move as fast and quietly as I can. I grabbed both of them by the gills suddenly and heaved them onto land. Uncaring for my own cleanliness in the face of fresh food, I leap onto the flopping trout, smashing its head in with a nearby rock. I almost miss the second one, a catfish, wriggling to safety while I am lost in my own moroseness when, with the nearby twang of a bow, a short arrow pinned it to the ground. It gave a few more valiant flops before stilling completely.

Eyes widening I crouch on the balls of my feet, ready to tackle the offending trespasser, when Villiam slowly side stepped into full view, hands up and bow slung across his chest. I am acutely aware of my nakedness and try to casually shift away from the light of the early evening sun. My scars are already fully visible now despite my hard work in ensuring I am more than modestly covered, claiming to be uncomfortable showing my skin.

The humans were already looking at the hairline scar on my face strangely, I didn't need them to see the full hideousness of the rest of me. But it seems all for not when his eyes widen in shock. He shifts uncomfortably, slowly walking to me and taking the towel off the boulder near the river side. Awkwardly handing it to me I mumble my thanks and ask him why he is here. Pointing to the rabbits I didn't notice slung on his hip, he shrugs.

"The company gets pissy without fresh meat after a few days. I didn't think you would be bathing here, I am sorry."

My eyes soften a bit as he shifts foot from foot, clearly upset from intruding on my privacy. Patting his arm, I wink and shoo him off with my fish strung up and over his shoulders. Then I remember him seeing me naked, more accurately what is on my body, and hurry to catch up to him.

"Ser Villiam!"

He stops and catches me barreling up to him only to trip a little on my stop. My face heats to my own anger and I quickly stand straight while clutching the large sheet around me.

"If I may, could you keep this a little secret," I wave my arm up and down my body, "just that? I'm not the most comfortable with it."

I smile bitterly.

"Was hoping to keep it a secret a little longer, especially to such a handsome man around."

I sigh dramatically and turn to dress, hiding my own disappointment. Man is so much more picky with body images, I truly have no hope with him. At least that is what I thought when he grabbed me by the shoulder, spun me around, and collided his mouth to mine. It's not explosions or butterflies, but it is nice. And sexy. Smiling I melt into his arms knowing he is not holding me tightly and is giving me the space to push back. When we finally come up for air the food is on the forest floor and I am pinned to a tree, him between my legs and keeping my sheet up in case another person comes and sees us. Laughing out of breath I finally push back, pointing to the food. Winking, I flounce back to the river to dress and nearly sprinting to make it to camp without rising suspicion.

Through the evening my eyes would be drawn back to him and he to me and the tension would rise steadily until night fell. I was completely calm when I stepped back into the familiar clearing to find him sitting back on the boulder. The air is chilly but the moon is bright so I ignore my goosebumps and untie my dress and leave it on the ground where it'll be forgotten.  
)*(

As we ride into Haven, almost two and a half weeks after I started this mission, I cannot help but be disappointed. I had assumed a place where the Divine calls together all the countries leaders would be a bit...more perhaps? But it's warmer than the pass and has a place to put down our heads and grab some drinks before camping back out in the snow under the pretense of going forward. Villiam and a few others try to convince us to stay until the end of the talks but we make excuses of family waiting and brush it off.

Villiam and I didn't have to talk about it, we know what must be done. We will not actively seek each other out but if by any chance we meet again we might just try it out. Not to say our last foreseeable night together will be dry with forced friendliness. In the middle of the festivities we sneak up to the rented rooms. In the whirlwind of things I remember in the morning I can honestly say I'd be surprised if we didn't wake the entire town and from the sleepy, barely sated man smiling over at me, I can guess that we will be quite the effective wake up call.

When we are done and he kisses me for the last time, strapping his leather braces on, a companion of his comes in, pointedly not looking at my hastily covered nakedness with a sly smile. "Here captain. A missive from the guild. A raven just dropped it off."

"Thanks Tasha. Now get out of here, I'll be down in a moment." She snorts and mumbles something about how we must be so tired it would only last a moment when she winked at me and left. He opens the letter while tossing my bindings to me that somehow ended up behind a desk. His face twists a bit a roughly folds the letter. He sighs and looks over at me still struggling to get the blasted thing on. Fucking hate bindings. Much rather to go free but I'm supposed to be a proper lady. His long legs takes him to me and he slaps my hands away to redo my admittedly horrible job.

"How do you dress yourself lass?" I smile good natured like and ask about the note.

"Our contract with this group hasn't been renewed for the stay and the escort back so it's been canceled in favor of a higher paying job. We leave immediately. I just wished they could relax a bit longer."

He sighs through his nose then kisses the side of my neck over the love nip that will be hidden by my hair soon enough and leaves the room. For the next few months I hope desperately that he and his team made it until I get a notice from his guild. Then I laugh and cry all over again.

My party leaves not long after and from the glares Opal shoots me and the nasty concoction she forces down my throat I'm not hiding my bow legged walk half as well as I thought. I smile at the bitter woman and she glares a bit harder. When we reach beyond the city limits and into the wild of the surrounding forest my smile falls away to a pursed straight line and my strides becomes more fluid and soundless. Ignoring the painful stretch of my nether regions I begin leaping onto stones and fallen logs in an effort to keep foot prints to a minimum.

The others follow after me when the trees grow dense enough for us to climb and we move in the canopy. The trees are much more brittle than the ones of my home but we only had one mishap with Grog falling straight down only to land on another branch before he could smack into the hard earth. I smile down at him as he grumbles and rolls onto the balls of his feet, shooting a cool look at my silent laughter. We make camp close to the temple that night, the lights washing out the nearby foliage to gray as night fell. We don't start a fire and set our camp up in the thick branches of an ancient sequoia.

I look over my guard while clipping my dark leather armor on and wrapping myself in a grey cloak. I feel the lack of quiet clanks of my hair beads as I twist my hair into a tight bun as I shift on the balls off my feet nervously. I know they will be safe in my pack but it's already strange without them. Grog goes over the mission information once more as I stare at the imposing temple. Something feels wrong. Something is making my gut twist as night settled and the air around the building grows tense. The others don't feel it and I shake off my nerves, convinced it's only first mission jitters. I rub my belly as I sheath blades on my thighs. Sharp enough to not feel it go in, but oh how you feel it come out. Nodding to everyone, I shrug my pack off to give to Grog and pull up my hood. It's time.

Entering by the secret entrance our contact gave us, I soldier crawl through the tight space, hearing the loud arguing of people above me. I had to muffle my screams several times as spiders crawled onto the back of my neck. I need to get out of here. I can feel the walls closing in on me every time my elbows clash against the filthy stone walls.

I'm near hyperventilating when I see the grate under the cathedral where the Divine and the main negotiations of this war are being held. I have already heard interesting things that could very much effect the trade of our business, filing it away along with useful blackmail. But I need to get to a good vantage point to get what I need.

I sidle my way into the wider part of the tunnel, only stopping when I can clearly hear the words and negotiations. I sit up and get ready for a long night, taking out one of my knives to twirl agitatedly as they go on about the plans the Divine is venimenytly trying to dissuade. I can understand why. One plan basically enslaves the mages and another could cause another mass genocide of elves by the Templars. Idiots.

My uneasy feeling I've had since I first set my eyes on this creepy place is making me a bit ill and I swallow back the nausea. It gets so bad its making me gag and while I did not know why, my knives are constantly clenched in my hands. A cold sweat breaks out as this nights meetings winds to a close with little to no success. I can smell familiar tobacco being burned in a pipe and hear the shuffle of papers as the Divine sighs and slumps in her chair.

I silently crawl away to report this nights findings. I don't make it far when my tunnel is flooded with burning light and I scream in agony at the scorching brightness. With the heavy sense of dread I thought I had been found until I heard the entire temple echoing with it and the sound of running feet. Scrabbling to the nearest grate I start to kick at it, the ill feeling making me weak with fear. I don't know why I try to leave that way, why in my panic to get out I thought it was a good idea to leave the possible only safe spot in here, but I do and did.

With a desperate sob of relief I finally kick it out and jump up, shimmying my shoulders and hips out of the narrow opening. The temple is awash with carnage, magic flying everywhere. It looks like a betrayal until I notice the disgusting and unnatural redness of the adversaries everyone is trying to hold back. But they aren't strong enough. I scream as the nearest man to me is cut down. A bad move in hindsight, just like coming out of that accursed tunnel. The monster turns to me, sword raised high, and I move on reflex. My knife flies through the air like a flash of silver to bury into his throat. A moment later I turn away to finally vomit amidst this little war. Swallowing, I leap out of my prison.

My hearing is buzzing as I slide to the body on my knees and take his sword and my dagger. I twist it every which way looking for familiar craftsmanship and, not able to find any, I hold it tighter and join the fray. As my blade crosses others and magic singes my clothes I grit my teeth and tell myself to survive another day. People around me lay dead and dying, screaming and sobbing accusations while ignoring me as I wander, lost in the vast room in my own numbness. I can't remember what happens after the last one fell to my sword. Only the sound of the Divines shrill screams.

When my world exploded in bright green lights that look so much like the memories of light I sometimes see in the corner of my eyes, and screams of agony tore the air I knew I would die...and then I didn't. And I don't know why.  
(*)  
Damn I'm getting better at this.


	4. Griefs Product

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In sickness she makes a new ally. Perhaps Allanah will be able to keep him in health?

Ch 4: Griefs Product

The explosion and flash were blinding, turning the temple into rubble before their very eyes. Lilliana screamed in agony, heart wrenching at the knowledge her mentor is dead. Dead with her dreams never to be fulfilled. As the world crumbled and unorganized soldiers shifted through the rubble the sky tore apart. Green spat from its storm and a small tear in the veil opened in front of Commander Cullen and his forces.

Out stepped a woman, battered and for all the world to see, broken. A shadow looms behind her before it twists back into itself, leaving her face first in the snow where she nearly died with a sword in the back when her hand began glow. It was chaos, the storm over head muffling everyone's screaming and shouting.

No one notices a slim man with a mages staff kneel beside the nameless dwarf and twist her arm almost gently to see the mark. It's light washed over everything and spun along with its sister in the sky. He sighs and turns her onto her back before yelling out to a stern looking woman in armor.

"Cassandra, we're going to need her."

She spat on the ground and glared at the woman beside him. "Why? So that you may harvest its magic for your own gains?"

He snorts and chooses to ignore her hand twitch to her sword. He's used to her unreasonable distrust by now.

"This mark may be the key to closing that. For it to even be a possibility I need to study it and its effects."

Cassandra looks to the shrouded woman on her side, both pale and drawn looking. She nods with a sigh, shoulders still tense and hands at the ready.

"So be it. Both of you will be under heavy guard until we know what we're dealing with."

He bows her head until she turns, instantly dismissing them as he is flanked by two armed soldiers. They watch dispassionately when he carefully gathers the small woman in his arms, ignoring her quiet whimpers that he shushes all the same. She must not be weak. Not here. His arms tremble halfway down the pass but he does not let go or slow, her near silent crying gone as she slips further into her comatose state. Another dwarf, a man, sidles up beside him to peer curiously into her face.

"Doesn't look like a cold blooded killer there but then again I've been wrong before."

The elf shrugs and keeps going with quiet determination knowing if he had one of the humans carry her that a knife would slip between her ribs in their misguided attempt of revenge.

"Here Solas. Let me carry her for a bit. You elves, so fragile."

Solas glares half heartedly at the stocky man who is already peeling off his red jacket and his arms out. Settling her he watches as her chilled trembles slow and her shoulders relax their rigidness. The jacket is wrapped around her and Varric huffs at the weight of the taller woman but he doesn't balk or shake.

Bianca shouldered he makes heavy steps back to Haven, stone sister at arms and wondering what the truth in all of this is. If it was one of his books a twist would be on the horizon. The town is full of shock stilled humans and knowing what a bad idea walking into the middle of town with her is, he takes a back road up to the Chantry. The Chantry Mothers and Fathers were screaming and yelling over each other as Solas shouldered the back passage open.

Hefting the woman up more comfortably in his arms and sighing Varric follows the Mage up the stone stairway, ignoring the unsettling feeling of the guards glaring after him, or more specifically the dam in his arms. Since he grabbed her she only sniffled and rubbed her face against his collar before not moving. She doesn't even twitch when he sets her on the hastily cleared table.

The Revered Mothers shriek like hellish banshees in his ear and his crooked nose twitches in irritation. He storms out of the Chantry, leaving it to the big folk. They got themselves in this mess and he's refusing to be dragged into it. Not after last time. Solas stayed behind, close by the side of the comatose woman as the Chantry argued well into the night. Carefully waving the Seeker woman by he lowers his head in a whispered conference.

"If she is to be of any use we need to tend to her, make sure the mark is not killing her from the inside."

Pursing her lips she sends for Adan, the reluctant healer tending to the more serious wounds of the soldiers caught in the aftermath. In only minutes the scowling man strides into the hall making a beeline to the obviously injured woman on the table. Ignoring the Mage and soldiers trying to push him away from his patient he quickly checks her pulse.

Surprise is an expression easily hidden by uneasy annoyance. Pulling her collar back up as high as he could the alchemist calls for a cot so that the woman can be carried to somewhere more private. More private seemed to translate into the dank chill of the dungeons. Rolling his eyes he quickly sends for blankets and his equipment.

"You, elf. Yes you, you daft boy. I need help if we want to stabilize her to live past tonight. Poison has already ravaged her insides, blood loss, shock from whatever happened. We'll be needing a miracle. Or some of that handy magic."

Gripping his staff and stiffening Solas sighs and props it against the door he was trying to leave from after being convinced of her relative safety. When he got close enough the healer murmured to conceal all from sight and hearing. Brows lifting he rolls his sleeves and carefully casts a privacy charm out of the candlelight and immediate sight of their watch dogs.

"You may speak freely now. They can hear and see everything but it will not register as unusual or mention worthy."

Adan nods distractedly as he pulls out medical supplies. Solas's hands itch with the need to tinker with every instrument and vial in an attempt to understand it's very structure. Swallowing down the urge to question he quickly gets into place to help as much as he can. They work to nullify the potent magical poison while Adan mulls over what he saw.

In a futile attempt of saving her modesty as much as he could from the foolish lads behind the bars he cut a square in the already torn shirt shoulder and removed the light armor. Still working side by side with magic, as he carefully removes some tainted blood to research and makes sure she didn't slip any further into coma, he finally speaks to the patient man by his side.

"Look at her neck and wrists."

Pausing momentarily he flicks open the stiff collar high to her chin and unlaces the leather bracers on her forearms they haven't removed yet. Taking another moment to close his eyes in realization he continues his work once again. He knows those scars. He's seen them on many a slave, erased them from sight in poor consolation for being unable to erase the memories. They are the marks of slave shackles, rubbed in thick and cruel bands encircling her wrists and neck.

As one they start to carefully remove the rest of her clothing, healing the bruises and fractured bones as they are uncovered along with the over stretched skin of hundreds of horrific scars. Most prominent are the whip marks crisscrossing over her back, pale pink and raised on her skin.

Brushing aside the ivory curls Solas rubs some tingling elfroot pack onto the soft and oil worked scar on the right side of her face. Bloody red tattoos hide the scar well and he flinched a bit at the sight of them. When they are done she has not a stitch of clothing and they trace over her tragic story imprinted forever on her skin that must have once been smooth and unmarked. The guards know not to look in after Adan raged with the fury of a shaker hornets nest to let her be and have her privacy.

"They will not know of this. We will clothe her as covered as possible while I try and find a way to hide these."

Adan looks skeptical. "Why hide them?"

Solas does not take his eyes away from the dwarf who suddenly became just a small woman child trembling in the cold, unknowing of the trials she must face once she awakens. A part of him hopes she never does.

"A slave will never grow past enslavement with the sight of their imprisonment on their own body. The healing process is more than just the body and she obviously wishes to hide it."

He nods hesitantly and they dress her in her ruined clothes, Adan cursing the idiot war pups who insist of keeping a nearly dead woman in the dungeons. Even if it wasn't freezing and hard just the atmosphere of the tortured stone would be enough to hinder the healing of any dwarf.

In the days to come they tend to her and the erratic mark, once a small glowing crack now widening into a near hole in her palm. They watch in desperation in the night as sometimes threads of fade magic travel up her veins into her skull, further hindering the healing of the trauma. They work tirelessly, some days blurring into one as they forego sleep to try and calm the tortured screams of their patient. They finally convinced the Seeker to allow some common comforts for the woman who is now sleeping on a small bed propped up by a straw pillow.

Sweat soaks the mattress through her water logged clothes and even the most sadistic guards stopped laughing and cheering as she screamed in agony as the mark expanded once again. She has blearily opened her eyes a few times in her fevered hours, brain finally healed to a sufficient level. Too bad the rest of her body cannot or simply refuses as the expansion that used to be every couple days in the near two weeks after the explosion now comes every couple hours.

It grows once again by a hair and Solas rests his face in his hands. At this pace it will swallow her. Not for the first time he contemplates just allowing it to and stopping his negating magic in the night. Then he will finally be free of these agonized screams. Pointed fingers dig into his temples as she whimpers before falling into deep sleep again. It will be so easy. Perhaps even merciful. Even quicker he could reintroduce the poison into her blood stream via her heart. Magic would also do the trick. Smothering would cover those horrible, horrible shrieks.

As he wonders about the best way to kill her he does not notice as he stands and carefully steps to the now fitfully sleeping woman. The pillow was knocked to the ground as he slowly picks it up, not taking his unblinking eyes from her. He does not even bother to check for an audience as he carefully places the covering over her face and stands there as the seconds tick by, never applying the lethal force needed to suffocate her.

Finally he sighs and gently slides it under her head, sweeping her damp hair from her face and neck. Feeling her forehead he makes a watery smile as he feels that the dangerous fever has broken. Striding away he collapses by the pile of books that he requested. He is no fool. He is just as much a prisoner as she is and a vastly less important one. To kill her would incite the Seekers deadly ire.

He ignores the loud wondering a of Varric who was tossed in here after some days by the stretched thin Cassandra and continues to read a historical text of a bygone age with blurry eyes. Before he knows it he is asleep and when he awakens the night is fresh and clear if you ignore the menacing Breach in the sky. But what is more engrossing is the newly awakened woman who is looking around in a panic.

His breath leaves his lungs as she turns her unsettling eyes on him, fade green glowing nearly as brightly as the mark she plays with in horror. Standing, he carefully creeps to her side not noticing his approach until he entered the sliver of tainted moonlight on her bedside. Before she can panic and try to stand he lifts a glowing hand and murmurs.

"Sleep."

Catching her as her eyes rolled into the back of her head he carefully places her back down and sighs. Taking out the outfit that is a mix of her own armor and some clothing they needled from the Chantry he quickly dresses her for battle. And she will need it as protection from the humans as much as the demons that bay for blood. Despite his earlier urging of killing he feels a kinship with this other outcast, feared and mistreated for something they didn't do. A nonhuman misfit among the sea of cow eyed masses. An ally.

Calling for Cassandra and Adan he remains seated by her side, carefully making sure her bracers cover her wrists and the shirt is buttoned high on her throat along with the curved leather that protects her arteries. He stays by her side even as they take her above ground into a small building and chain her up like a rampaging barbarian. He stays there until dawn breaks and the rift tears open once more. Then he stands and leaves, side by side with a now released dwarf who grumbles and pats his cross bow. He does not look back as he climbs the mountain into hell.  
(*)  
Thank goodness it seems that only the first chapter and the unposted chapters under went any note worthy change. I may just delete the original chapters in this case.


	5. Condemned By Jury, Judge, And God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> is it a curse or a blessing to keep waking up?

Ch 5: Condemned By Jury, Judge, And God

I only saw and heard in flashes. Flashes of light, of sound, of agony, and of terror. Sometimes if I opened my eyes for a moment I saw flashes of snow and pine and heard angry voices. Other times I didn't think I was awake which can't be. When I truly wake I'm chained and kneeling on the ground. Four armed guards turn their swords to me and I can see the one on my left trembling. My hand spat out green light and my own fear grew with each spreading pulse. I stay there kneeling for a long time until a heavily accented woman with anger coiled tightly in her muscles enters the stale smelling room with a shadow taking on a woman's form. Her eyes spit flame when she sees me and her voice is hard but I can hear the tears in it.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now. The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Everyone but you."

My shock stills my tongue. It made sense now. The swords, the shackles. They honestly believed I caused a mass murder. I don't know either to be relieved that I know or horrified at the implications. I choose to keep my voice still. The angry one doesn't seem to like that and yanks my glowing hand. She spits out her words like poison.

"Explain. This."

I'm scared. A piece of me that I thought I had long buried wants to curl up into a ball and hide from the woman. Her image and the image of Him blur together into a hellish picture of what my nightmares would have been.

"I-I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't?!"

She tosses my arm down. I wince as my hand strikes unforgiving stone and scrape my knuckles. I want to be strong and steady. Willing to take this woman head on. But she has the swords and the anger. I only have my fear and horror.

"I don't know what that is or how it got there!" Her eyes are howling with rage. Her entire body stills like a predator ready to tear me into itty bitty pieces.

"You're lying!"

She nearly exploded into action, growling in anger as she goes for me. I am lifted up a bit from my lapel and I can see the salty tracks of dried tears down her face. She is pulled off of me and I can tell the other woman is doing it half hearted at best.

"We need her Cassandra."

She sounds dead. Empty. It's sinking in that all those people are gone. I had seen them socializing. Sometimes with a barb and a hateful stare but alive all the same. To think that so many people could just...be no more. Then again I can't be surprised after the slaughter I've witnessed.

"All those people. Dead."

The shadow woman asks me if I can remember. Surprisingly I can. To an extent. "I was..running. Things were coming after me. Things with too many eyes. So many eyes."

I trail off and then I remember a figure. "A woman?" She repeats to herself, almost in disbelief.

"She reached out to me. And then...." I tried desperately to remember what came next but it was almost like I hit a physical barrier. Cassandra starts to push the other woman out.

"Go. Go to the Forward Camp Lilliana." I guess that's her name. "I will take her to the Rift."

The last word is ominous and I feel as if it has a capital, like a name. Then she is down by my side unlocking my shackles. She ignores my questions and brought me to the door.

"It will be easier to show you."

I am blinded by the sun momentarily and cannot take in what I should be seeing until the black and red spots stop dancing drunkenly in my sight. A bright green tear in the air swirled threateningly, boiling the sky with poison and death. Almost like a storm but without the excitement. All I can feel is dread heavy like river rocks in the bottom of my stomach. A vortex of chaotic magic spews down from the heavens and I can only watch as hell rained down on our heads.

"We call it the Breach."

She sounds resigned and I can hear that capital again. Although I think this definitely calls for it.

"It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows with each passing hour. It's not the only said rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion of the Conclave."

The veil has torn! And I know she is telling the truth. Now that I am not blinded by my own thoughts I can feel it in the back of my mind. Spirits scream in confusion and I have to take deep breaths so I don't vomit. Never in my life have I been able to hear such a thing and so amplified. At most I could discern spirits and sometimes be sucked into the vague emotions of a memory in the space between sleep and wakefulness.

"An explosion can do that?"

It speaks for my shock that my voice has little to no fear in it. I can feel it though, in the base of my stomach. I want to run. I need to run. Get me out of here! It's like a physical smack when Cassandra's voice is heard over the ringing in my ears. She looks at me strangely from the corner of her eye, hand shifting closer to her sword.

"This one did. Unless we act now, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world."

Well then. I'm about to tell her sorry but I can't help and truthfully I can't. I may be able to fight but one dwarf not even to her majority against a legion of demons? The odds are not in our favor. Well, I would have said all this if the Breach didn't give a pulse of power energizing my mark. I couldn't keep in my shriek of pain. It felt bone deep and jarring. Almost like small animals with blunt teeth were slowly gnawing at my bones all the way up to my shoulder. Then the pain faded as fast as it was there, leaving me with pins and needles and some blessed numbness. Cassandra kneels before my hunched body.

"Each time the breach expands, your mark spreads. And it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this but there isn't much time."

"You say it may be the key but to what?"

"Closing the Breach. Whether that is possible we will discover shortly. It is our only chance, however. And yours."

Well if she says it with that accent of hers, then yea, sure. Totally willing to die for this. I want to tell her to sod of. To say that this is suicide and to run me through already. But looking at the Breach, the hideous mark tearing the sky apart, I know what I should do. Wouldn't mother be proud? Most likely not.

"Ok. What ever I can do to help."

She looks surprised at my response. Well, I always wanted adventure right? She grabs me by the back of my shirt (also where in the blazing hells are my clothes?!) and takes me along into the town I had thought merry what felt like a day ago. People stared and pointed. Mothers hid there children and men spat at the ground as if to rid themselves of a foul taste.

"They have decided your guilt. They need it. The people of Haven mourn our most holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between Templars and Mages. She brought their leaders together and now they are dead. We lash out like the sky but we must think beyond ourselves, as She did, until the Breach is sealed."

She spoke so reverently and with such passion I almost believed her to be just in this. He voice is thick with tears and admiration you can't help but feel even a bit of it yourself. She turns to me with a dagger and cuts the ropes tightly binding me.

"There will be a trial. I can promise no more."

Her eyes are dry and her voice now even and I cannot bring myself to beg for a better chance. Death stares me down, judge, jury, and executioner all declaring me guilty.

"Come. It is a long walk."

"Where are you taking me?"

I sound tired even to myself. She does not answer just pushes me along.

"Open the gate! We are heading into the valley."

We looked at each other then jogged down the path. It was like the world was ending. Fire was everywhere, comets of unholy nightmares rained down, spewed from the hole in the sky. My mark spread again and I fell over in agony only for Cassandra to help me up with surprising gentleness.

"The pulses are coming faster now. The bigger the Breach gets the more rifts appear the more demons we face."

Oh by the Vein how did I survive?!

"How did I survive the blast?" It's meant to be rehtorical but she answers anyway.

"They say you stepped out of the rift then fell unconscious. They say a woman was behind you. No one knows who she was. Then everything in the valley was laid waste including the Temple of Sacred Ashes but you'll see soon enough."

With that she turns and leads on to a bridge that collapsed under our feet when hit by the demon comets. Miraculously we survive the fall unharmed and conscious. By my momentary joy is unfounded as another hit near on the river and a demon, uglier than sin, crawled out. Cassandra orders me to stay behind her but lot of good that does me when a glowing green spot appears in front of me.

Out of the corner of my eye I see a great sword that fell out of one of the wooden cases. Taller than I'm used to and human made but it'll have to do. Leaping for the weapon I roll and stand with my stance perfect and my arms steady. An equally hideous monster leaps out of the spot and narrows down on me. I hack and slice and when they corner us together I guard Cassandra's back until she runs through the last one. Then she turns on me, distrust twisting her face and orders me to drop my weapon. And I can only look at her in disbelief.

"If you're gonna lead me through a demon infested valley you need to trust me."

"Give me one reason to trust you!"

I give her the most logical and clear explanation I can think of. "Because my life is on the line."

She sighs and slowly puts down her sword.

"You are right. I cannot protect you and I shouldn't expect you to be defenseless. I should remember that you agreed to come willingly. My soldiers are at Forward Camp. We will meet them there but we are on our own for now."

We continued on, fighting and destroying demons in our path. Sometimes they would leave a residue Cassandra said that the researchers could use so we scoop some up into a vial. Not sure if I trust a little glass vial against something that came out of a DEMON but she said it could help us learn more to defend against them. I hope she is right. My arms already shake and my shoulders ache.

We work well as a team. Like a couple of newly oiled gears we flow, sometimes snagging on an un unoiled space but always moving forward until the sounds of battle not our own reached us. We looked at each other and like a machine jumped down to help our allies. I carefully try to dodge them and take down the three terrors in our path. When the fighting is done I see that the two we help are another dwarf and a bald elf who yanked me towards the floating crystal of doom.

He yelled something about others getting through and pulled my arm up to reach out to the menacing spike ball of death. I don't expect anything to happen but when my hand starts to glow and a loud humming or maybe chirping sound filled the air. Then poof. It disappeared, folding into itself and leaking a black fluid that also disappeared.

"What the hell did you do?"

He smiles, man he's already infuriating, and clearly states in an educated accent that it was all my doing.

"Least this is good for something huh?"

My rueful smile holds no humor but the handsome dwarf at my back laughs all the same.

"Whatever power opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand."

I can't stop staring at the horrid thing as it glows with magic.

"I theorized that the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breaches wake. And it seems as if I was not mistaken."

He is so calm, his clipped accent cutting through my panic if only slightly. Cassandra peers in reluctant wonder over my shoulder, hand clapping down on my arm almost like shackles as she stares at the staticky mark.

"So that means it could also close the Breach itself?"

The man shrugs with one shoulder while lifting his slightly singed staff over the other.

"Possibly." She rolls her eyes at his almost dismissive tone.

"It would seem that you hold the key to our salvation."

His face is carefully blank as he fiddles with the animal jaw around his neck, browned with age. I'm not close enough to see what animal it was from but I can't seem to take my eyes off of it. Perhaps enchanted. The other man pulls me from my mind with a snort through his crooked nose.

"Good to know. And here I thought we'd be ass deep in demons forever."

He looks up from examining the strange bow in his arms for damage.

"Varric Tethras; rouge, story teller, and occasional unwelcome tag along."

It's almost refreshing as he winks at me to feel the atmosphere lighten up. His easy smile and twinkling eye invite me to do the same as I smile to him. Perhaps I am thankful not to be crushed under the weight of all that was being said.

"Pleased to meet you. And that pretty bow there."

"Ah, yes. Bianca, my one true companion. Now you know Bianca's and I's names. Time to hear yours. All the heroes must have names."

I roll my eyes at the thought but answer.

"Allanah. You can call me Allanah."

I smile a bit wider as I speak my name, such a normal thing in such an abnormal situation. He claps my shoulder in friendly welcome, slipping down to clasp our forearms together. Cassandra shuffles behind us and I turn to see her arms crossed with a scowl.

"We must meet with Lilliana."

Varric snickers and steps forward and I finally notice he barely comes to my nose.

"What a great idea."

"No! Absolutely not. Your help is appreciated Varric, but-"

He cuts her off smoothly.

"Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You need me."

She makes a sound of the highest disgust in his smirking face and stomps away. The elf holds me back a bit as I go to follow.

"My name is Solas if there are to be introductions."

My creeping smile is stopped as a flash of a memory comes to mind. A dark room surrounded by cold night. A Mage with a glowing hand reaching towards me.

"Did...did you spell me?"

My brows furrow in confusion as he smiles with a tease at the corner of his mouth.

"Yes. We still didn't know the circumstances you came upon the mark so it seemed the best course of action was to put you back asleep. I am pleased to see you still live all the same."

My eyes widen and Varric comes beside me.

"What he means is 'I kept that thing from killing you as you slept.'"

I gulped and brushed my hand against the surface of energy.

"Do you know what this is?"

He hums a bit and, more gently now, takes my hand to inspect it.

"It is magic of the Fade. It has a deep connection to the Breach and I believe to under stand this phenomenon we must study it."

I resist the urge to snatch my hand away and nod along.

"I will be happy to help as long as all research is shared and consulted with me."

I smile sheepishly.

"I'd like to know about this if it's going to be attached to me for an indefinite amount of time."

He smiles in understanding and drops my hand. Grasping the staff he follows after Cassandra, Varric and I tailing them. As we walk we group together closer and Solas takes the chance to speak with my warden.

"Cassandra, you must know that this magic is unlike any I've encountered. Allanah is no mage. In fact I doubt any mage to have this kind of power."

Varric slips on an icy rock and I nearly go down with him, flicking a handful of snow at him in retaliation under the disapproving glares of my other companions. I do not care. This may very well be my last day so I will enjoy it as I can.

"Understood. We must get to Forward Camp quickly."

Their legs quicken and Varric and I try and match pace with the big people.

"Well, Bianca's excited."

I snort as he pats the bow lovingly while giving me a teasing side glance. It doesn't take us long to be apprehended and we all stand at ready as the demons emerge.

"Solas, Verric! Keep the wisps off of us, Cassandra and I will take out baby ugly and mama ugly!"

Cassandra seemed like she wanted to argue but the boys were already following orders. Grinning to her like a cheeky bitch I go after the bigger of the two and keep it off of everyone. It seems more intelligent somehow. Constantly trying to get past me to my distance fighters and when I felt a protection barrier go up it screeched and hacked at me faster and more aggressively. But it went down like any other monster and left us in the aftermath. I realize none of us are even injured and let out a breathy laugh. As we climb up the slick stairs Varric questions my innocence and I answer truthfully. That I don't know what happened.

Then he pissed Cassandra off and it kind of digressed from there. Then surprise, surprise. More demons. Cassandra expressed concern for the other woman, Lilliana, and I had to wonder what everyone's relationship with each other was. They seemed to be aquatinted at least and Cassandra and Varric seem to hold a closer, more irritable relationship. Then, oh wow, more demons! Except this time with a twist! We close the rift quickly enough and they congratulate me on having a useful magical parasite attached to my limb but I can't be too bitter about it. At least I'm helping. The gates open for us and we quickly pass through onto another bridge but this one with better stocked soldiers and Lilliana arguing with a stuffy chantry brother.

"Ah."

He sneers to me, glaring down his beak of a nose.

"Here they come."

Lilliana steps in front of us, grasping Cassandra's forearm briefly.

"You made it. Chancellor Roderick this is-"

He cuts her off rudely, never taking his beady eyes off of me.

"I know who she is. As Grand Chancellor of the the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution."

I blanch and look wildly around. I was promised a trial here! Cassandra growls like an irritable bear, striding closer to be nose to nose with the man.

"Order me?! You are noting more than a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!"

Her sneer is much more effective as she glares holes into his skull. But he matches her and does not falter.

"And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry."

Lilliana glides into their space, pleasant smile hiding a dagger. "We serve the most holy as you well know."

He explodes but thankfully takes a step back to do so, waving his hands in the annoyed women's faces.

"Justinia is dead!" He sighs and his shoulders slump forward. "We must elect a replacement and obey her orders on the matter."

I'm content to stay quiet and allow the surly Seeker to champion me but my eyes bug out once again.

"Is there no one in charge here?!"

They are quiet and do not meet my eyes which is answer enough. Breathing through my nose deeply I try and fight against the impending headache. Humans.

"Call a retreat Cassandra. Your position here is hopeless. Your men are tired and have no one to rally them, your best chance for now until we close this thing is to have them set position in a wide perimeter around the town and the entrance of the valley. Keep the demons here and the soldiers not as spread."

She clenches her jaw at the notion but sighs.

"Perhaps you are right. I will talk about it with Lilliana later. In the mean while we can stop this before it's too late."

I nod knowing that is as much as I will get on the matter and turn back to the defeated man in front of us. He hunches even further and stares at the map before him.

"How? You won't survive long enough to reach the temple even with all of your soldiers."

"We must Roderick. It's the quickest route."

Lilliana speaks once again.

"But not the safest. Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains."

Cassandra shakes her head as Lilliana points to a path on the mountain side.

"We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It's too risky."

"Listen to me. Abandon this now before more lives are lost."

Roderick holds his palms out but before he could make his case further the breach began to expand once again, my mark along with it. My screams are swallowed by the rumbles of the earth and the collision of giant stones spinning wildly in the middle of the vortex that seems no closer than when we started. Cassandra once again helps me up and allows me to lean on her as the spots in my eyes dissipate. She sits me on a crate next to the table and knees before me, keeping our eyes level.

"How do you think we should proceed."

I swallow as the pain is gone leaving a hollow feeling that doesn't have everything to do with the mark.

"What? Why are you asking me?"

She smiles ruefully.

"Like you said. Your life is on the line, perhaps even more than ours. You should have a voice in this."

I blink and nod. Looking at the map I point to the marked camps.

"Charge and allow the soldiers to retreat to the village like I proposed. If we fail we don't know what could happen. It'll be best if they are near the people so that could make a hasty retreat if needed. We can make a detour and try to get in contact with your soldiers while we're at it. If we can. "

She nods and stands.

"Her plan has merit. Send orders with these instructions and we will be on our way. Can you walk?"

Lilliana and I nod while she saunters away to some crates filled with ravens. As we walk beyond even further into hell Roderick gives the last word, ominous in a way.

"On your head be the consequences, Seeker."

She does not stop or acknowledge his words just walks with back straight and head high. We walk for hours as the snow blows and stings my hands clenched tightly around the broadsword. The closer we got the less we talked. Even Varric could not come up with quips to keep the conversation going. My eyes sting and my nose runs as we climb up a watch station with many ladders to scale.

"The tunnel should be near and the Temple lies just beyond it."

I nod and breath on my stiff fingers before climbing the long stepped ladder.

"What manner of tunnel is this? A mine?"

She nods at Solas while following close behind.

"Part of an old mining complex. These mountains are riddled with them. Our missing soldiers would most likely be in there."

"Along with whatever detained them."

She looks back at Solas again as I heave myself over the edge. I refuse to look down, body already unbalanced without solid ground beneath it.

"We shall see."

A fade rift greeted us as we wandered deep into the cave system, demons letting chilling screams as they spot us and rush in, baying for blood like a pack of mongrels. It wasn't much harder than before and yet my arms tremble with exhaustion as my left arm falls to my side. Solas examines the goop left behind, giving me side glances he's been making the entire day that I ignore. It makes me uneasy.

"Sealed as before. You are becoming quite proficient at this."

Varric snorts and helps a man up.

"Let's hope it works on the big one."

The woman leaning on Cassandra speaks to her and I make my rounds and help those I can before we rush away to our death. It comes horribly fast. The Temple is not as I remember. In fact I wouldn't have recognized it if it weren't for the assurance of Cassandra. Petrified bodies line the path, trying to run from their destiny. I swallow back bile and forge onwards, sword in hand. I don't hear anything as I follow the funnel of magic up, up, up into the sky as Lilliana comes with her own men. They take position quickly while Cassandra steps beside me.

"This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?"

"No." But I heft my weapon up and cock my hip.

"I'm assuming you have a plan to get me up there."

Solas answers for her.  
  
"No. This rift was the first and it is the key. Seal it and perhaps we seal the Breach."

I nod and stride purposefully up the steps closely followed by my nervous companions. We enter the decimated temple. Stone is flying, the sky is glowing, and the mother of all fade rifts glares down at us all. To top it off a voice that immediately sent shivers down my spine spoke up.

"It is the time of reckoning. Bring forth the sacrifice."

"What are we hearing?" Cassandra seems as unsettled as I am.

"If I had to guess it would be those who created the Breach."

I try to ignore how that's possible and go further into the eerie yet beautiful temple that became a crypt. A hatefull red glow slices into the green and it's Varrics turn to be scared as he yanked me back from one of the crystals.

"That's red lyrium. Evil stuff, don't touch it." Before I could even think to joke the disembodied voice comes again.

"Keep the sacrifice still." The monsters voice is calm. So deadly calm.

"Someone help me!" A woman's voice this time, terrified and feeble, calls out to me. "Someone please help!"

I want to throw up. To scream. Instead I leap off the ledge into the blast crater when suddenly images like with a memory crystal but clearer play across the sky. A shadow who's eyes shine like red lyrium holds the Divines arms out. She looks so helpless and afraid. Then I enter the scene.

"What's going on here?!"

"Run while you can! Warn them!" I reel at the almost familiar words.

"It seems we have an intruder. Slay the dwarf." I flinch back as his clawed hand points in my reflections direction and the memory shattered.

"You were there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she...was this vision true? What are we seeing?"

As she fires off rapid questions that I have no answers to she starts to shake me, desperation deep in her eyes. I push her off and take a step back, lips pulled up in a snarl.

"I don't remember!"

Solas speaks from under the rift.

"Echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place. This rift is not sealed but it is closed. Albeit temporarily. I believe with the mark the rift can be opened and then sealed permanently. However opening it will likely attract attention from the other side."

We glare at each other once more before I stand beside the elf. Cassandra stands back and orders the solders taking place while Solas quietly walks me through what to do. In theory. Swallowing, I raise my hand feeling so alone and small beneath the giant while the area clears. It takes much more concentration as I glare at it, hand glowing and sparking with the torrent of magic. With an unholy scream it fractures again and a monster comes with it, sparking with lightning and roaring with laughter as arrows immediately meet its hide. Magic flew and blades struck. Blood was spilt and magic flowed into the the very heart of this mountain. I screamed as I was struck into a crumbling pillar but stood on shaking legs and blurry eyes to strike again, taking out a hamstring in my wild swing. The beast falls quickly after that and I sprint closer to the behemoth in the sky.

Landing hard on my knees I raise my hand once again and seal it with a scream and a river of magic I can feel flowing through my veins and shredding flesh in an effort to be released. I could feel my shoulder pop out of place as my arm is torn back from the incredible combined power of my own mark and the backlash of the rift above me. As my skull makes a connection to the stone beneath me I wonder if I will wake up again. Deciding I didn't care I close my tired eyes and sleep, ringing in my ears sounding a lot like screaming.  
(*)  
Tadur! Ok so next chapter to come tonight. Finally I'm moving this freaking story forward! I have like 30 rough drafted chapters I kept putting off editing and posting like an idiot.


	6. And Yet The World Goes On

Ch 6: And Yet The World Goes On

When I woke up against all odds I felt...thrilled? Grateful? Confused definitely. My limbs are heavy and my head is aching horribly but by the Stone I'm alive! I feel like cheering and screaming to the sky my living status. When I turn my head however I see a skittish elven woman who sees me awake and promptly drops everything and bows on the ground.

"No it's ok you're ok."

She just continues to babble something about me being the savior of them all and how she must tell Cassandra at once. There was a bunch of "my lady"s in there before she sprinted off. Groaning I slowly sit up, feeling sore muscles and aching bones. There's a ring on my finger but I don't notice it other than questioning the strange humans giving their prisoners jewelry. I swing the door open and I'm nearly forced to crawl back inside to the warmth when a biting wind stings my face. Narrowing my eyes I roll my shoulders and walk on, ready to fight if bitter feelings still linger.

I expected seeing the people shocked and dropping things. What I didn't expect was them bowing at my feet. Several people rush to me, words of adoration confusing me further. The armored men around the market run to me and push the masses back before they could trample me leading me further into town to the stairs where a line of officers and Chantry members bow at the waist lining a closed path. My jaw drops and I trudge on with my face down trying to ignore the murmurs of appreciation. This is insane.

I'm almost relieved when I swing open the Chantry doors and immediately I can hear arguing. Chancellor Roderick seems pretty pissed. I look back at my small guard who smile and close the doors on me leaving me to my fate. Wonderful. Following the candles in this dark temple I see a door at the end that most of the screaming seems to be coming from. Taking a deep breath I quickly open the door and saunter in.

"Chain her! I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial."

I nod. It's not like I expected more and at least I'm being given a trial. This is what I was promised despite the fact I know with certainty I will be found guilty by a religion not even my own. I try not to think about it too much.

"Disregard that and leave us."

I read back in shock as Cassandra straightens from where she is pouring over a map, fire in her eyes daring any to disobey. The soldiers by the door bow and leave immediately.

"You walk a dangerous line Seeker."

"The Breach is stable but it is still a threat."

They continue arguing in the back and while they discuss my future I decide to inspect the room. The map is lit up by piles of candles and I wonder once again at the lack of ingenuity with their architecture. The room is barely illuminated and I jump at the flickering shadows cornering me in the room. Swallowing my fear I look closer at he map of the continent. Fereldin and Orleise are meticulously outlined curling script naming every town range and forest. There are green flagged pins all over the map numbering in the hundreds. Probably rifts.

"So her survival, that thing on her hand! All a coincidence?"

I don't care enough to listen except to know I'm being defended and he's being added to a long list of suspects.

"Providence. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest moment."

Oh fuck no. I will not be crowned saint in this religion. Lifting my hands in the air step back to look at all of them. Now that my sight has adjusted I can see better than I ever could in sunlight. Ever minuscule crack in the wall, ever tiny sparkle of hidden weapons or jewels in their pockets and around us. But I don't need that to see the shock on their faces.

"I am no follower of Andraste, I have no connections to your god, and I am certainly no Herald. Do you hear what those people are saying outside? Like I'm some sort of Avatar!"

I snort but they continue staring. Only Lilliana nods in respect to my decision and my eyebrow twitches. I beg Mok for deliverance from this bullshit and pray to the Stone beneath my feet for strength. I'm going to need it, it seems. Cassandra finally slumps a bit and sighs.

"I will not pretend you were not exactly what we needed when we needed it. It remains to be seen what you are if you are heaven sent."

I decide to choose my battles and lean against the table arms crossed.

"The Breach remains and your mark is our only hope of sealing it."

They go off at each others throats again and I groan. Brushing my ratted hair back into the tie I pause when I catch sight of my wrist. It's...gone?! My throats closes and I try to keep from freaking out while discreetly rolling up my sleeves to find no scaring. I narrow my eyes nod probe my wrist again, met with some kind of resistance. The air around it is slightly denser than anywhere else, the skin rougher than it looked. The table beside me is slammed on and I jump at the sound, turning nearly fast enough to float I see an ancient book. Dusty and bound in material I can't even name the uneven pages are yellowed and stained. Yet the metal eye in the middle of the cover shines brightly unmarked by time. It stares out at me and I get the sinking feeling I'm not going to like what's next.

"Do you know what this is Chancellor? A writ from the Divine granting us the authority to act."

Oh gods no.

"As of this moment I declare the Inquisition reborn."

Fuck. She advances on the slime ball of a man slowly. Confidently.

"We will close the Breach, find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval."

He turns away without another word slamming the door behind him. Lilliana shakes her head and gently taps the metal eye.

"We aren't ready. We have no leaders, no numbers, and now no Chantry support."

Cassandra bumps shoulders with her and I feel as if I should leave. Or maybe running is the more appropriate action?

"But we have no choice. We must act! With you by our side."

Ah here's the dreaded part. But I also know I have no choice. I am the only one with a key to the fade in the palm of their hand. Pun completely intended.

"We'll see how this goes."

"That is all we ask."

Cassandra offers her hand and I grip her forearm. Giving the a sharp nod I turn to the door.

"Where are you going?"

I answer without turning. "To get a drink. I think I'm entitled to one at this point."  
)*(

I haven't awoken for more than a week and I'm setting out to the Hinterlands. In the days leading to this I watched ravens flying in and out at all hours, met a handsome commander and diplomat, and thoroughly learned how to appreciate free wine. My letters always come back unopened and I am sick with worry. Tracking down Carta contacts is useless so I must wait for word from my father. It's not a pleasant or fruitful wait. Soon enough I gave up.

Today, as I and a group of choice solders leave the town center, I watch Cullen hammer an Inquisition banner to the Chantry. Before I turned away the slip of fabric unfurled behind me, the Inquisitions flaming eye watching us leave the gate. The entire town gathers to watch us go cheering and thrown flower petals at my feet. Can't say I don't like the fan fare. My wounds have been cared for and my mind has been cleared. I can't go back home. Not now when the world has gone to shit so thoroughly. I recount the moments in my head.

The moments where Varric told me to run as fast and far as I could, where Lilliana begging me for answers from a mouth that was not mine, Josephine's quiet anticipation but forbidding nature, Cassandra's self doubt and fear, Solases academic enthusiasm, and Cullen's hope.

They unloaded these emotions, these hopes and dreams into me and I don't know what they expected of me. I am no savior or messenger of the gods. Yet I am filled with admiration for these war hardened people. But I cannot halt the black distrust I harbor. These are the men and women who would have killed me given half the chance and I know the feeling of hesitating hatred is mutual. It's lonely here.

I figured out the glamour over me, the jade and sterling ring having hidden runes in the band and probably more under the carved chip of jade. I can't tell what the image is supposed to be but I see faces every now and then and a bird of fire curling around the edge. The craftsmanship alone is amazing but the strength of the spell is breathtaking. Probably to compensate for dwarves inability to take to spells easily. I don't mention it to anyone but I do see Solas giving it aproving glances so it's safe to say who the hell put it on my finger. Now I just need to figure out why.

We ride hard into the wilds of the Hinterlands. Varric, my only trustworthy companion, occasionally telling a filthy joke to brighten the mood. When we reach the established camp sight. After five days of near constant travel in full armor and reaching the camp in the middle of the night it's not to much to say that we simply collapsed in the tents not to rouse until morning nearly passed. After the three hour rest I meet Harding, a dwarf archer who seems a bit star struck. I am almost painfully polite and try to hide my awkwardness with work. Which involved demons. Fun. A sprinkle of mages and Templars seem to be on top of this particular shit pile too. Double fun.

We clear the path to the Crossroads, a quick but bloody affair. Dead litter the road long before I appear and my company only add to the numbers. I swallow thickly and turn away from the listless eyes staring accusingly into me and pretend, if only for now, I can't feel. Will it get any easier? I breath in deep, pushing away the cloying scent of decaying and blood. I settle myself and ignore the part of me that enjoyed the fight. That enjoyed being good at fighting and the skills to rightfully remain alive. That enjoyed tearing apart my enemies. Taking a few more inhales I open my eyes.

Not far down the road is the Crossroads. Or at least what's left of it. People are limping away from our party in blind panic, fearful eyes in sunken sockets peer at us. I can feel the hunger and desperation off of every person here, from the children to the elderly, they all hurt the same. I walk into the town trusting the others to be behind me if nothing else. I can see a Chantry Mother, aged but graceful, trying to convince a man to let mages heal him. She shushes him like a child and soothes his fears.

"Mother Gisselle?"

She stands like a dancer and turns to me. Her eyes shimmer in a fetching way and her smile can ease a dragons rage. She must have been beautiful in her youth.

"I am. And you must be the one they are called the Herald of Andraste."

I choose to ignore the title. No need to get into fights with a possible ally.

"You asked for me." She gestures ahead of her and I signal the others to stay behind as we take a shambling walk further out. She speaks suddenly and I am knocked out of my wandering memories of similar woods and towns.

"I know of the Chantry's denouement and I am familiar with those behind it. Some wish to increase their chances of become new Divine, some are simply terrified. So many good people, senselessly taken from us."

I couldn't help but wince a bit. "What happened was horrible." She nods in acceptance of my shitty condolences.

"Fear will make us desperate. And they have only heard frightful tales about you. Go to them. Give them something else to believe."

So much conviction but I question its ability to stand. "That won't make it worse?"

"Because you are a dwarf?"

Among other things like being a heathen.  
"That too."

She chuckles a bit and it is heavenly.

"You need not make them outright believe. You must simply make them doubt. Their power comes from a unified voice. Take that from them,and you receive the time you need."

"You make it sound so simple." Even to my own ears I sound jaded.

"I honestly don't know if you've been touched by the fate but I hope. And hope is what we need most now."

Mother Gisselle walks away to tend to more wounded and I stand in shock. Much easier than I thought but I take in a breath and go on with our adventure. I call the others to me and after talking to Corporal Vale we go fourth to the horse masters residence. I try to be single minded on our way but seeing so many in need I must help in anyway I can.

I am not an animal nor will I act like one. I repeat my mothers words and allow myself to feel the crippling sorrow I have whenever I lay eyes on the waste left behind in this war. I was sent here to do good and do good I will. I helped all who asked. Hunted for the villages. For weeks we continued our day and night fighting. The Templars and mages just kept on coming. If we weren't protecting the people as individuals we were thinning the ranks of those bastards.

I got watchtowers established and workers coming. People began to recognize as a simple Inquisition officer but the Herald. Not my favorite but it will do. And if people are to be believed tales of my adventures are traveling far and wide, across the Hinterlands and beyond. I have ravens from minor lords of the area offering me troops or threatening to kill me if I continue. I send all to my people in Haven.

Currently I'm sitting on my bedroll mostly undressed with Solas tending to my wounds. Bastard stuck a knife between my ribs under my cracked armor and nicked bone. Cassandra is inside with me too, upholding our propriety and keeping the rumor mill stifled. She seems to have warmed up to me in the past few weeks, her eyes warmer and warmer every night as she takes in wounds and new scars I get daily in my effort to help.

Her jibes become friendlier and she's much more ready to jump a man for spitting in my direction. And I can't say the sentiment is not returned. I smile warmly at her as Solas's magic knits flesh and muscle back together. As always his calming hands rove over my back and wisp across my face to heal my bruises and cuts. As my pain eased I groan in thanks.

My muscles relaxed if only minutely under his touch and he laughed a bit until he caught Cassandra's hardened glare. He patted me on the shoulder and heaved himself up. I can hear the meaty cracks in his back and I feel guilty. I know he threw his back out dodging a fireball today and while I'm grateful for him taking care of our immediate wounds he doesn't need to use mana to heal bumps and scrapes. I dig into my discarded pack for some elf root chew. It'll cut down on the pain for a bit.

"Have one. Then come over and I'll give you a back rub."

Nothing strange about it. Dwarves have always been believers that physical manipulation of the body can do wonders in healing and it's common place among families and friends. I keep on repeating that as I push into the corded muscles of his back. Lanky but still well packed. I can't keep a flush from over taking my cheeks but I let my hair down to hide it. It looks really pretty brushing against his shoulders.

Within the month my infatuation with Solas rises from a young ones crush to a mutual respect with a bit of tension. Do I still blush a bit around him? Yes. Do I still whack Varric in the arm for pointing it out and teasing me about it? Definitely. At least Solas seems to be ignorant about it or has decided to leave me with some dignity. Cassandra makes disgusted noises at us every now and then.

The group and I have come to an understanding of vague friendship. Varric and I would talk about his book ideas and he help me create new songs to sing. He seems to love my voice. In fact I've sung more here than I have in months. My throat is in a constant state of sore and my voice is scratchy. But I can't remember a time I smiled so much. Especially when he cracked those stupid jokes.

Cassandra and I shared some of our history, her more than I, but at the look on my face she decided to leave my past to lie. Instead she told me some of the more humorous stories of her birth home. Occasionally when we are awake together unable to sleep after a bad day we would go lay under the stars and she would give me the more painful stories. In return I would sing of my peoples history or tell her facts of us so different from her. I once even told her of my mother. When she asked for more I clammed up and she let it be.

Solas and I hold a likewise interest in the fade and world around us. I have always been interested in the fade and understanding the world around me. He seems to appreciate that very much and has taken to the title of teacher very well. We observe the fade on a daily basis while he tinkered with my hand. I once had the gut to ask him if he was the one to give me the ring, half expecting he would demand it back. After so long without pitying stares I don't think I could give it up easily. He just nods and continues to work on my marks reaction time. The questions I wanted to ask dried up in my throat and I swallowed them back down. They no longer matter.

When we hit our two month mark I cannot sleep. We had finally found the lair of the wolves, the elusive bastards. Dennits wife was right, they weren't normal. Not only did they fight with fury of a hundred but they hid their tracks and whereabouts. Still I wince as I remember the madness leaving them in the last moments and sobs of pain being called and whimpered. Only Solas stopped celebrating to find me throwing up deeper in the territory.

He brushed my hair away from the mess and led me even deeper in to find a litter. Most of them lay dead, killed from the presence of such mind sickness, but a hardy one lives. A girl as white as I am with eyes still closed. She mewled for mothers milk and I took pitty on her putting in my bag while making Varric hold my things. I took her to the Crossroads where Solas helped me gather food for her. He warned me that with the food shortage she might very well die anyways but I am determined, even if I have to hunt down a pregnant wolf myself she will live. She is larger than the others and with how huge a normal sized one is I am apprehensive about her growth rate.

I am nursing her near the fire with a butter and cream when a raven lands near. It's letter is sealed with the official seal of the Inquisition that lets me know it's for me. When I open the wax while handing the pup to a disgruntled Cassandra I didn't know I could feel so aprehensive. I know from experience that I should follow what my gut is telling me and it says don't open the blasted thing but I do and I read it again then thrice. It sends me news of the Carta.

"I don't know how you survived the Conclave but I am happy. I said it was going to blow up but that's not what I meant. I've tried to send word to the Five but they are out of reach. I haven't heard word for or of them since this whole mess started. Bronto is pissed. Says you have started this whole herald lie to cover your tracks and sell us out while being protected behind a wall of inquisition armor. I might be the only one at this hold that sees him for the mad man he is. Good luck Stone Sister, may the vein be in your favor. I'll keep trying to send word to your father.

-L

I know how to read between the lines. This is much more dire than my friend Lantos has said. It seems that the Carta have declared a war on us. A war I know my father and uncles would never allow so it must be another branch. Perhaps several branches. But the more disturbing is the implied news. Somehow my family hasn't heard of what I've been doing. I reach up for the beads but remember they are probably sold away by now and my hand drops. At least I still have my poison pouch, something Cassandra gave me a few weeks back. Crumpling the paper I toss it into the fire and watch it burn completely before standing up. I have a duty to these people and I refuse to leave until the job is done. I may not want it but I am needed. More needed than I've ever been except once a long, long time ago. Seeing as my hands were tied I could only send a missive to Josephine to warn her and tell them to be aware of any spy's.

The next day I don't even have time to scratch my ass before I'm given another letter from Cullen calling us back to Haven. Apparently we are making waves all the way to Val Royal and our operation is growing a bit bigger to be handled without help. The Chantry have announced us heresy and without backing from them we are unable to get any form off help. At least that's what he dramatically worded. Varric snorts something that sounds suspiciously like "Curly" before dropping his head on the makeshift table. I can relate. We set out within the hour with my pup napping in a basket strapped to my back.   
(*)

Ok so I think this is good? I really hope so I'm sure I fucked up a paragraph or two by switching them since I'm editing this at like 1am.


	7. Horns Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allanah finally meets The Iron Bull

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time for me to get motivated to write this fic again. Mostly got it with my realization that I write for myself and share with the hope even one person enjoys my work and that cannon doesn't matter. Of course the next couple chapters will have main plot centric stuff but after the ball it'll be like a completly different story. At least I'm hoping so, I'm trying to deviate from the main story as much as I can without it being a complete mess by separating it slowly.

By the time I finished with Val Royeaux the personal attempts on my life had nearly doubled and so did my strays. A rag tag group of poorly matched degenerates and royals coming along out of duty or, in Varric and Seras case, fun and bringing my temper to the breaking point. Fucking hell. 

Even Solas began to annoy me, his racist and ignorant comments of dwarves, even fellow elves, grated on my nerves to the last strand. I'm not proud to admit the only thing that kept me from permanently silencing the bickering behind me was the glowing reminder on my palm and Varrics sarcastic remarks in my ear. 

I need a drink. Something hard and heavy and burns me from the inside out like dragons fire. After the shit storm I went through recently I feel as if I deserve it. Mage rebellion, crazy defecting templars who punch the pedestal standing cunts that run the Chantry, and of course raising a wolf pup without her trying to bite everything. 

It helps that Baby, a name that stuck when we couldn't think of a proper one, never leaves my side, pressing against my legs in fear whenever someone new comes across us. The Fereldan warriors that came along to guard us on the road took to her faster than anyone, without their slabs of muscle they call hounds to paint and adore. She drank it all up with the cunningness of a child looking for treats. 

I fear she'll become spoilt but at this point it would be easier to let it be and allow their antics. Who cares if it can be seen as war hound training, they keep her fed and exercised when I'm too busy. Like now, I guess, when I'm too exhausted to do anything but cling to my horse and think while my bleary eyes refused to focus on anything. 

Too jaded for my age, too much hurt in my life, I walk in a bitter haze now. Tired and snippy, only wanting to do what I can. If only my family could see me now, after I had finally gotten better from.....well, just better. I don't sing anymore. My hands are too stiff to draw. My body is too tired to cook delicious flavors. Calluses too thick to sew. I only fight now, day after day as I thin out the Hinterlands and think longingly of peace. 

But there is a spark of horror when I look deeper and find a soul settling peace among this chaos. I don't like killing, I don't like hurting, but I like the fight. I enjoy the pain in my knuckles when I split them over the face of my enemy. I revile in the blood splatter over my face when my war hammer descends on someone's skull so they can never hurt again. How sick am I? I don't want the answer. 

A war hammer weighs on my back now, long swords abandoned when I found one of my preferred weapons in the ashes of a collapsed home, with countless daggers strapped over my body. Hand axes are strapped to my steads front legs, right within arms reach. 

I might be over armed, a walking arsenal so to speak, but from my experience not only with the ongoing war but also bandits I knew it might not even be enough if I want to make it back to Haven with my party intact. Already, we have lost too many soldiers. Boys and girls with romantic dreams of grandeur. I feel like the elders because the need for a stiff drink increased ten fold. 

Haven approached in the distance and I watched my party visibly relax. Even Vivian, an uptight mage that nearly killed a man when we first met in Val Royeaux. That was...interesting to say the least. I was just glad to have been able to groom and bathe in a hot bath before hand. I would have hated to ruin the sleek midnight blue dress Varric picked up for me, wrapped heavily in paper now, attached innocently to my saddle. 

I didn't feel innocent having it, the rich silk too expensive for my toughened hide, crystal beads embroidered heavily into the stiff top and sleeves. At least it made my tits look amazing, the only reason I didn't make him take it back. And maybe because the wide eyes following me throughout the night. 

Our return warranted a welcome reception it seems. Town girls flung themselves at weary soldiers, even Varric was dragged away by a tittering maid that seemed to have a thing for chest hair. Cassandra and Vivian left with a huff while Sera casually eyed a pretty young woman. When I turned to look at her again she had left and I was alone with the rabble nodding reverently and keeping a distance. Wonderful. 

Patting Baby on the head, I lead the skittish animal to the lonely cottage on the outskirts of town. Away from the stares and the churches devote murmurs. It's the homely little thing I woke up in and I feel the itch to plant some flowers in the sill. Foolish notion. Haven is too cold to support grain, let alone flowers. 

Waving a young Chantry ward closer, I order the girl to get a small bed for Baby and buttery milk. Lots of it. Ever since we started training her, her appetite came roaring to life. Solas says we can start weaning her in a couple weeks and then it will be much simpler to feed her. Hunting might have never exactly been my forte, an exaggeration of my skills honestly I'm terrible at it, but it's not exactly hard to buy some cattle. 

I spent an hour cleaning the road from my skin and getting Baby familiar with her surroundings. Knowing what a bad idea it would be to leave her alone right now, I hide the squirming pup in my shirt. It won't fool Modi, the portly bar mistress that always has the strong stuff on hand for me, but maybe it'll make her laugh enough to let me keep her inside. 

She gave me a tired grin when I innocently looked up, shirt squirming and huffing as Baby tried to sniff her way out. Victory. Baby sat at my feet with a bowl of cream while she snagged the expensive liquor I liked from under the bar. Modi is a blessing, a plump angel that deserves the world. From the generous glass she poured, mixing with some chilled apple juice, it seems I'll be the one to hand it to her. 

"Gods above and below woman. You sure you don't need wife?"

The older looking woman huffed and adjusted her bust delicately but I can see the grin twitching under her stern mouth. 

"Aye, fight ma husband fer ma hand you will?"

I shrug and take a sip. The blacksmith might have a few tricks up his sleeve, "I can be your secret wife. Doesn't even need to know."

Before she could counter the door slammed open and a glowering man strutted inside. With a look at the pissy expression and wet armor she bustled to the beer filled barrels in the corner.

The grumbling soldier slid beside me, kicking his legs up on his stool and slamming his head into the counter. He must be new, no one would be so brazen in this town as to sit uninvited by the Inquisitor. How interesting. Lazy eyes rove over him, from the non standard issue armor, to the floppy hair cut that looked soft as a mink. 

"Whatcha lookin at?"

His head was tilted to me, still on the freshly cleaned counter, to glower under his mop of hair. I almost jerked back at the accent. A Vint so inland during a war? How brave of him. 

"Sorry. Should I not be? You're a very handsome man and I don't think we've met."

I lean lushly against the bar and wink like those prostitutes I met. I was rewarded immediately with a furious flush and a couple stuttering murmurs. Snorting, I down the rest of my sweet and tart drink and slap his back. 

"Don' get nervous on me soldier boy. I was just joking. You're not exactly my type. You are handsome though, if it makes you feel better."

He grinned and rolled his eyes, reaching for the tankard Modi placed in front of him bringing a small tumbler with liquid burn just for me, the hard stuff finally, "You're just as bad as my boss."

Eyebrows arching I appraise him and he stares back, not intimidated by a dwarves stare. Pity. 

"Who is your boss?" 

I'm too fucking tired to act coy, I'm curious and I'll have an answer or I won't. Either way I have alcohol. The man looked at me and just stared for a minute, tapping his fingers on the warm bar when I shrugged and tipped my glass back for a mouthful of fire. 

"The Iron Bull."

I swallow with a grimace and a cough. "Who?"

"Leader of the Bull's Chargers. I was sent to talk to the Inquisitor, but their guard dogs won't let me within 10 feet of the door."

He punched the bar in frustration, taking a mouthful of swill with a sigh. I already knew why he can't get an audience with anyone. Two reasons actually. Cullen and Leliana are the most over paranoid fuckers I've ever had the fortune of meeting and it seems this isn't the only time it's bitten me in the ass. I need to talk to them about this, I can't let the Inquisition be some kind of invite only party when war and turmoil is everywhere you turn. 

"I can get your message to the Inquisitor," I bust out laughing at the look he leveled on me and waved Modi over, "Modi, tell him I'm close friends with the Inquisitor."

She also gave me a look but nodded when I winked. Oh thank you Mok for this gift, "Can' see either without the other most days. The two be like siblings."

He chuckled and raised his mug in acknowledgment before we both took a drink. 

"What's your name anyway soldier boy?"

"Call me Krem."  
***

"Cullen. Any particular reason why people can't get an audience with the Inquisition?"

Cullen's back went ramrod and I mentally cheered. 

"I, um, we just thought," he coughed awkwardly into his jacket but still didn't turn, "we didn't want you to be meeting with anyone not high tier."

"That's not what I asked Cullen," I rose my hand when he finally rounded on me, "I'm a figurehead. I know this. But the Inquisition is a real thing and, for a lot of people, a last hope. Don't fuck it up by thinking you can turn away requests if it's not attached to a name or a title."

He opened his mouth to retort but my hard glare keeled him. I am under no illusions here. I am meant to be a name to call in battle, a figurehead the soldiers gather under. I'll be damned though, if I allow this organization to become as corrupt as the thrice damned Chantry whose claws sink deeper into this land every day. I'll use what little power I have by shoving the mark in their faces if need be. Turning heel, message received, I stop when he called back to me. 

"I have something to tell you Inquisitor."

I took the seat he gestured to carefully, pouring myself a glass of wine from the bottle and crystal set on his desk. Decoration, undoubtedly, but from the look on his face this is too serious and I'm still too sober today. Leaning back with a quick gulp of the sweet wine I wave him to continue. 

"I stopped taking my lyrium."

The wine was too good to spit out but I sputtered and coughed after swallowing. Cassandra covered me on the basics of Templars, including their crippling dependency on lyrium. And it's negative effects when one stops taking it. Ah. So that's why. It seems the seeker was preparing me for the worst. Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose. 

"You're a grown man I presume. You are completely aware of what this could mean, should it go bad?"

He stiffly nodded and I leaned back with an exhausted grin. 

"So be it Commander," He blinked but a slow grin cracked over his solemn expression, "Why did you tell me now?"

A shrug. 

"You seem trustworthy now."

We sat together when he poured his own drink, the silence somehow light. 

"We leave for the Storm Coast in a week."

Cullen purses his lips but let it be, sipping his wine in easy silence.   
***

Cullen wouldn't let me leave without his personal escort and, since I left everyone to run the army and fight against the rising tide, I let him. Just me and him, and a couple veteran guards that feel more like babysitters for Baby. Awkward wouldn't be the only word I used to describe it. Maybe infuriating. Eye opening? We certainly knew more about each other by the end, including the freckles on his ass. That night in particular was hilarious. 

We crested the mountain and I saw a sight I haven't in years. The ocean. Tears stung the back of my eyes as the familiar scent of brine filled my sinuses. It wasn't the same though. This cold and dank place, with more fog and rain than should be allowed, is nothing like the warm and sandy beaches of my home. Pine trees instead of fronds sway overhead and the air nips at my lungs. 

I don't know what's worse, the niggling of familiarity or the soul crushing disappointment when it wasn't enough. 

Shouldering my pain, I kick my stead in gear, letting it carefully toe down the slick path to the beach. Krem said something about them being encamped there. The sound of battle, clanging metal and cries of fury, reach us long before we see the beach. Perfect. I've been getting antsy on this relaxing ride. 

Grinning savagely after shoving my pompous feathered helmet on, I push Baby in the arms of another and push my horse faster with the order for him to stay with her. Can't have a pup get underfoot in battle. I reared him over when I saw the mass of bodies that accompanied the sounds clanging in my ears. How exciting. Leaping down, I lash out at the obvious Vint army on the outskirts. Cullen landed beside me and I watched him transform from the awkward and nervous man looking for a reason to live into...into a lion. 

A snarl like the beasts and a sword as deadly as any claws he swung with a blood curdling roar. I see, now, why he is our commander. I see him sometimes, the ruff of his mane somehow spotless but the glint of his blade now red with blood. He will be just fine. My company spread out to cover all escape and I somehow ended up with my back to the sea. Axes slick with blood, I roughly toss them down and lift my hammer from my back, worn iron of the head looking somehow deadlier than the blades by my feet. 

The men cornering me into the surf grinned, those that I could see at least, and I smiled back. Let the real fun begin. My first hit swiped a man's legs out from under himself and I feel the give of his knees breaking. I lift it back up to block a broad sword coming to cleave my head in two, one of the daggers on my thigh flung out to imbed into the fallen soldiers neck. Good aim. 

I use another to stab into an oncoming man's gut, shoving back against the blade so I could roll away, leaving my heavy weapon in the gravelly sand. My axe met my hand. The wrong one for my hand but I only needed to take a wild swing at the unbalanced man, slicing into the muscle of his exposed bicep. I watch in wonder as red beads up around the silvery white of muscle and tendon. My moment of distraction was too much, a short blade no longer than my ring finger dug itself into my thigh. Screaming a curse, I tear it out and ready myself against the two others advancing on me, pushing me deeper into the surf. 

The one with another dagger in hand twitched his wrist and I was only able to just jerk away so it scrapped the sliver of hip exposed from my twisting instead of my stomach. He payed for that with his life, my own plain dagger digging into the flesh of his throat. Two in one go, how lucky. 

The ocean spray bit into the seeping wounds on my thighs, sprayed up as the fighting navigates into the dangerous current. My last remaining opponent struck like a snake, grabbing my already weak leg and yanking me under. I couldn't scream as the salty and fishy water filled my mouth. Bubbles and sea foam blind my screaming eyes but I can basically feel his smarmy grin as he held my lower body close and gripped my exposed hair backwards into the sea. 

I closed my mouth and rejected my reaction to cough like an idiot. Unsheathing my dagger on the small of my back, I jab upwards and feel my arm jar. Armor. I slide it down to a leather binding and slide in until the scrape of bone tingles up my spine. Yowling like an injured cat the man drops me into the ocean spray and I kick at his knee cap. Not nearly as effective underwater but it unsteadies the shocked man long enough yank him down to my level. Looking him in the eyes I slide my dagger into the opposite side, twisting it a bit to slip between the ribs. 

A choked garble is his answer and I toss him away into the wave. The current will cary him out. Splashing back into the fray, I heave my discarded hammer out of the earth and slam it back down with a cry. It catches a few others attention and, picking out the identical armor-they really need a new design, it's hideous and rife with openings-I rush at them in a frenzy. It's hard, wielding such a huge weapon in close quarters, but those that matter keep out of the way and my enemy don't seem to think that I would hold it up one handed and stab them anywhere I could. 

The battle ended easily from there, blood slicking the handles of my weapons and fingers. Tearing off the stifling helmet, I wring out my sopping hair, grimacing when the sticky blood from dead men stain the pristine locks. I hate it when stuff gets in my hair. Deciding I'm as presentable as I could be I look over at the soldiers, a mass of mismatched warriors mingling with Inquisition armor. I don't see the polished insignia among the dead, only limping men that would need medical attention and Cullen standing apart with a twisted snarl on his face. Might need to stay clear for a time. My eyes catch a lumbering movement by the tangle of drift wood and look to the side. 

The world stood still around me. 

I met eyes with another, a grey man with pointed and deadly horns that might have had blood on one point. The Qunari was absolutely coated in gore and dirt. It nearly covered the stark black tattoos going up his arms and between his muscle packed shoulders in smears of red. He is a giant among giants with a glint of steel in his eye that wasn't even the missing one covered in actual metal. Most importantly, his pants are atrocious. 

He smiled like a wild thing and the only thing I could think was 'Oh shit.' My heart thumped and my mouth went dry. I wondered how much it would hurt if I risked climbing him like a tree. Swallowing my sudden and unexpected infatuation, I approached him with a steady smile. 

3rd POV

 

The sea is roaring, the ground is shaking from an unknown force, and the taste of someone else's blood is thick on his lips. It is a good day. Even when the Vints turned the tide against the Bulls Chargers the horned giant grinned, attacking with vengeance. One would never to think his name to be Liar when faced with his overwhelming power. He didn't fear and he didn't waver even when a new wave of the bastards took the place of their fallen comrades. 

They proved a bit more than a nuisance when they struck down Grim. Roaring in anger, he don't notice a new wave, this time of allies, laying waste to the bandits until a tiny thing with a giant hammer smashed in the head of a man going for Krem's throat. It gave him pause for only a second, then he jumped in with renewed vigor. If they needed to deal with them let it be after this when his people are alive and kicking. 

Sometimes he can see the little woman, able to tell by the curves and dips of her fitted leather and metal armor, made to be comfortable on a horse with metal only in vital areas, and that great ass. Bull can definitely appreciate the male physique but rarely a man has an ass of such form. Nice, round, firm with a bit of bounce. And the thighs leading up to it? So curvy he nearly hardened thinking of them draped over his horns as he made her scream. The smell of blood and the rushing roar of adrenaline only made this more of a problem. Nice images, all in all, but maybe he should kill the asshole trying to sneak up on her. A thought. 

His ax nearly cleaves his head in two and the dwarven woman turns long enough to acknowledge and give thanks by nodding. Then she turns around with her twin axes and slashes at a mans exposed calf. Tendon cut with muscles and he went down, easy prey for her other axe cutting into the side of his neck, slicing his jugular in a swift moment.

Suddenly, he couldn't see her anymore, lost in a swarm of enemies. He don't catch sight of her until later when his eyes catches a struggling pair dangerously far in the surf. A man holding a twisting dwarf and from the looks of it it's her. About to step in, she stops moving. He almost left her as a lost cause when her arm shot out of the water with a flash of silver, digging it into the soldiers side. 

She quickly incapacitates him and, in an impressive show of strength, tosses him further in the current. She stomps back onto land, steps squelching and armor dripping. She looked like a drowned cat. Bulls humor dissipates a bit as she lifts the near imbedded war hammer from the ground, lifted it in the air, and slams it down with a roar. Rocks cracked under her, an eerie green light fills the area, and noise stopped in face of her thunder. She lifts it back up one handed and charges back in the fray. He didn't let her leave his sight since. 

The earth shook as she slammed the ground several more times before everyone was dead and accounted for, leaving a wake of dead and blood. He almost couldn't look away. He turns only long enough to make sure his men were alive, looking back and inhaling sharply at the sight. The dwarf took off her helmet and a tumble of hair came out, as white as ivory and curlier than a milk maids, shaved from the left side of her head. It's still dripping and she wrings it out with a mumble. Blood ran with the water. 

She is not an unearthly beauty, scar marring up her face and lips, premature stress lines almost invisible on the corners of her eyes. But then she smirks at the others and Bull can't seem to look away from the bright red tattoos marking her face. His attention is drawn to her eyes by the pinkish sheen her pupils take when the sun came our from behind a group of clouds. They are green lightning, unholy and dangerous. Like the rifts the mercenary company has stumbled across. She strode through the throng of wounded men, stepping over bodies with a barely notable twitch, and smiled with the stiff air of professionalism. 

"You must be Iron Bull."


	8. Well Met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allanah finishes business and may have attracted the eye of a horn(y)ed giant. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this good? I kinda finished this draft in a stressed finals driven moment of slightly perverted inspiration. Take it.

Her accent was strange and thick, almost like she was swallowing the words. Vowels were throaty while consonants were short and clipped. A whisper of a memory trickled in the back of his mind, going in circles to try to pull open the obviously alcohol soaked fragment. Her grin faltered a bit with the silence.

"I'm guessing you're the Inquisitor?"

Her face became pinched and she took a deep breath.

"The Inquisition is run by a small group of people. I happen to be one of them," More like the muscle they send on errands a bitter voice lurking in the back of her mind supplied, "It's more of a running joke to call someone Inquisitor at this point."

Bull nodded and jerked his chin at her gloved left hand.

"The Herald then."

If it was possible her face became even more closed off.

"I'd prefer not to be called that. Allanah. Just Allanah."

"And I am Commander Cullen."

Allanah jumped a bit, bitter look on her face smoothing like she remembered where she was. Easy to read, maybe dangerously so. A tall blond man with a fur coat came up behind her, arms crossed and carefully watching the mercenaries amble around the stationary leaders. Bull can see the slight hunch in his shoulders and the twitch in his sword hand when Dalish came into view, "bow" slung over her shoulder.

"Yes, our Commander insisted seeing what the Bull's Chargers could bring to the table. A test run of sorts."

Krem slipped up beside him and laughed uproariously. The short woman, Allanah, smiled sheepishly, mischief twinkling behind her unearthly eyes.

"Krem. Well met, friend. Ready to be put to the test?"

Krem shook his head and bowed mockingly under the hard eyes of Commander Cullen.

"Of course Inquisitor."

Her face didn't crumple at his teasing words, instead she slapped her knee with a snort.

"Took everything in me not to drag you to Cassandra, just to see your face."

They locked forearms and Bull had a passing thought of how drunk his man had gotten when speaking to the "Inquisition contact" for them to have gotten so close. Probably very. Amused, he rolls his throbbing shoulder, brace only able to do so much for the damaged muscle when he fights so much.

"Now, while I don't want to break this reunion up," he slaps Krem on the back with a chuckle, "me and the Inquisition need to discuss some things about our contract."

Cullen's eyes flashed over to him, tearing away from the mage walking around freely without any magical constraints.

"We haven't yet planned to take you on."

Bull shrugs while ushering the two away from big ears and loose lips.

"Best to put all the cards on the table in this predicament."

A distance away the group of three stands with arms crossed and expressions closed. Still, he can see the flicker of interest and distrust on the dwarfs face. Being so easy to read just might make his job easier.

"Let's just tear the bandage off. I'm Ben-Hassrath and I was sent to spy on the Inquisition."

The Commander sputtered but Bull was more interested in the ever shifting expressions on Allanah's face. She jerked back and flushed bright red, the corners of her mouth stiffening. Fascinating.

"And why, exactly, would you tell us this?"

He shrugged, cocking his hip to take the weight off the broken ankle brace. Everything ached, from long adjusted injuries to the two fingers shortened at the second joint. Frostbite, it's one hell of a thing.

"The thing is, this could be a mutually beneficial contract between the Ben-Hassrath and the Inquisition. All correspondence would be shared with you and whoever needs to be in the know."

He saw her eyes flick to the group milling around and cleaning wounds.

"Only a few of the older members know. I'd like to keep it that way."

Her shoulders slumped and she pinched the bridge of her nose, wincing and rubbing her temples with the other when Cullen's squawking picked up tempo. Bull knew who would call the shots with this and kept silent under the man's anger while his short companion decided.

"Cullen! Enough. Iron Bull, if this goes well you will go to our spymaster with every single letter. I find out you're sending classified information or withholding anything I'll allow Cullen to draw that sword he's itching to grab. We have a deal?"

Bull bowed slightly and smirked at the confused man.

"Deal."

She watched Bull walk away, anger locking her joints and teeth aching. An irrational fury washed over her and tightened her chest. The threat to the organization she has spilled so much blood for, her own and dozens of others, seemed to have doubled in the moments this sham of a conference spanned. Bull was a threat her palms were itching to neutralize. Taking a calming breath, she turned and strode to the mingling groups, the comforting presence of a positive constant at her back. Cullen was bound to raise a stink about this later and she decided to avoid the confrontation for as long as possible.

"Ok ladies and gentlemen, we're gonna go up against a fade rift after a rest. No one dies and we'll hire you officially."

They mumbled a bit but Krem put a stop to that shite.

"Chins up! If we can't handle a few demons then we don't deserve to be called the best."

They sent out some runners to find the rifts and map the area, the leaders of each group keeping a careful watch on the other as they cleaned and replaced armor. This might be a long day.   
********

  
The rifts were easy. Focus, feel the singing in the air as the fade synthesized with the waking world, and _pull_. No, the rifts were always the easy part. It was the hellish regime that spewed from the unearthly tears in the world. It was watching her men fall under their poisoned claws and icy breath. It was struggling, with bated breath, to their sides. It was listening to dying men swear their very underdeveloped lives to her and the Inquisition. It was writing the letters outlining their valor to families that may be long dead in the wake of war. How she hates rifts.

Her heart thumped hard against her breast bone in the silence of the aftermath. That was the last one. None had fallen but, by the sickly feeling in the back of her throat, they might as well have. Trembling hands rub away the sting of salty sweat from her reddened brow, not knowing if it was from fear or exertion. Bellowing laughter and clangs of armor against armor rang around her still body and she felt more than saw the great horned giant sidle up to her side, eyes on the grey sea writhing and frothing beneath this craggy outcropping.

"You good?"

He doesn't sound like the bawdy leader of the Bulls Chargers. He sounds weary. Maybe he's seen too many good men fall because of this war too.

"I will be. Congratulations Iron Bull, your company has passed. Welcome to the Inquisition, whatever that may mean to you. Let's get moving before our armor rusts from the damn fog."

She's still not looking at him but she could swear she heard the grin on his lips.

"Aye boss. CHARGERS! Pull yourselves up, we got a way to a safe campground."

They seemed much more jubilant this time. She takes time to gather herself before turning to her own overly cheerful troops.

"Well then!"

She claps with false enthusiasm.

"Our work here is done, in the morning we move to the Hinterlands! Our work has only just begun there and we still need to find the holdings of those bastards."

"Does she ever stop?"

The random soldiers question hung in the air as she hurried back down the mountain side, hammer slung casually over her aching shoulders. The sea brings back too many memories and the mountains will be good for her she decides. That, and she could punch a few faces in and see what everyone is truly capable of. The Qunari strides beside her and it takes too much effort to not look out the corner of her eye at him, internally groaning. It seems like the whole Solas debacle all over again.   
*******

The days of travel was only slightly hindered by the detour to a well sized village for supplies where the men got the bright idea to try and swoon the many bored young maidens with bragging and tales of grandeur. The sun was too low in the sky to move out so the company took the hospitality of the village with stride. Evening had set in and the group was still awake and red in lush indulgence, alcohol and food making the rounds around the fire.

A steady drizzle settled over the valley, cementing the fact that stopping was a good idea. Armor was shed and put in tents, town too small to house the small army, the least destroyed clothes shoved on. Unfortunately Allanah didn't have such luxury, some packs lost in a mudslide along with several horses several days before. She reluctantly took the offered dress a starry eyed mother and daughter supplied, relieved that the teenagers clothing fit if not a bit too big. There were several rocks thrown at various jeering heads and a blushing Cullen shoved his coat at her once the clothing began to stick to her.

How amusing. Bull certainly though so, watching an exasperated dwarf drowning in clothes and struggling to light a wooden pipe. It took Grim passing her his fire stone and taking a seat on the ground beside her to finally wipe away her scowl.

He watched her light the pipe curiously. He just couldn't figure out what motivated her. Not yet that is. Not knowing is new territory and new territory is dangerous. For now, next to the fire surrounded by good men and good laughs, he observes the young dam sitting away from the small celebration.

The tobacco in the bowl glows bright red for a moment before turning to ash. Her head tilted back to slowly release the nearly white cloud from between her slowly closing teeth. The tendon strained slightly against her skin highlighted by the fires glow. The muscles in her shoulders shifted beautifully as she rolled her shoulders back and relaxed against a tree, fallen log beneath her supporting her crossed legs. The coat slipped around her lower arms and pooled in her lap but she only rolled her eyes at her commanders sputtering and left it.

The man situated himself in front of the less than bashful women, blocking view. Sliding across the crowded log to the end Bull can just make out her tongue sliding across the slightly crooked left canine. Leaning in closer he almost choked when he caught the glisten of her rain soaked skin exposed by the hand axe shortened skirt. Every bruise and scratch seeming to highlight the still twitching muscles in her thick legs leading down to curling toes that turn pink in the cold.

A raindrop caught her lash and he can see the slight glow of her unnerving eyes reflecting the water momentarily before it drops and his breath catches again. Damn. The glow of glossy black drives his attention to one of the pretty towns girls serving the brave Inquisition soldiers. She sits on an unnamed scouts lap, slowly lowering her cleavage to reveal the creamy freckled skin.

Bull caught himself looking back at his new bosses own chest, no longer restrained by bindings. Slightly flushed by the heat of the flame and straining against the thin fabric with every inhale. He can see the clear outline and pucker of her nipple against the dress and from the glare of the commander he knows he saw. Laughing, he stands and makes his way to the edge of the camp before her warning tone drifted to him.

"Bull. Where are you going?"

"For a walk boss. Won't be gone long."

She blows smoke from her nose like an angry dragon and narrows her eyes suspiciously before sighing and waving him on. Nodding he continued out of the sparse forest lining following the semi lit path. Might as well see if there was any alcohol they missed or, from the sounds of clumsy footsteps crunching over snow, anyone willing to ride the Bull tonight.


End file.
